


Psychosis

by VitaLupum



Category: Silent Hill, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When RED Team wake up in a certain abandoned New England town, they are forced to review everything about themselves and come to some horrific conclusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sniper's grey eyes fluttered open, and he stood up, clutching at his aching head. Where the hell was he?

He glanced around, pushing his aviators back onto his nose - they were hanging off from where he had… fallen over? He couldn't remember - and pulled himself up on the nearest object, which turned out to be an old, mouldering bed. The surface felt rusty and disgusting under his fingers, and he quickly pulled his hand away, wiping it on his red shirt.

Glancing around, he located his hat and his kukri on the mould-covered, damp bedside table, and quickly snatched them up. He appeared to be in a hotel room, which was dank and dilapidated, dust motes floating through the air, and he sneezed, the sound eerily loud in the silence.

There was a noise from the corridor, and Sniper froze, eyes fixed on the doorway. That hadn't been a friendly noise at all - a gurgling, almost choking noise, oddly muffled, as if somebody had a pillow over their face. Sniper crept forward, and closed the door as quietly as was possible, before backing away. His back hit the window; he spun around, kukri raised, and what he saw made him gape at the view.

Outside was almost completely grey; with what appeared to be snow lazily drifting from the sky and settling on the cars, the buildings, the pavements - everything was covered in a fine layer of the strange stuff. Sniper forced the window open in increments, desperate not to alert anyone - his lifetime of training as a sniper had taught him never to blow his cover unless he knew it was safe - and in doing so put his hand right in the snow.

It was warm and dry, making his hand feel even rougher, and he wiped his palm on his trousers, watching it leave a grey-brown dusty smudge on his leg.

"Ashes? What th' _hell_?" he mumbled, and stuck his head out of the window.

The town was deserted; looking either way up and down the street produced the same, depressing conclusion. He was utterly alone in the town, and as he sat down on the edge of the bed, rifling through his pockets for a smoke, he felt a strange, frightened feeling deep in his chest.

* * *

Medic opened his deep, blue eyes, and the smell of burning, rotting flesh assaulted his senses. However, being an unofficial and somewhat unorthodox doctor, the smell was somewhat familiar and therefore less bothersome.

He clambered off of the bed, and shook himself, looking around. Well, he was definitely in a hospital, albeit an abandoned one; the hospital bed he had previously lay on was rusty and burnt, and the only window was boarded shut, which led to the alarming question - what exactly was lighting the room?

Somebody had placed his hand on a flashlight, and he picked it up, swinging it around. The room seemed to be empty apart from himself, and as he strode to the door, opening it, the rest of the corridor seemed to be empty as well.

The floor and the walls were rusted and as he put his red gloves to them they left a corroded-looking stain that, after closer inspection and analysis, was clearly blood. He looked at the bleeding walls in faint interest, and then, as he heard a sound behind him, he turned. What he saw had the normally unflappable man from Stuttgart pelting back into the room he had found himself in, and as he shoved the bed in front of the door, brain still reeling, the thing began to pound on the other side of the door.

* * *

Scout opened his light blue eyes, and stood up, body quickly - as ever - choosing between fight or flight. He took in a quick scan of his surroundings, and the desks, chalkboard and the dusty, faded ABC on the wall confirmed it as a school.

The desk he was lying his head on prior to his awakening was the only thing in the room not covered in dull, grey dust, and he flipped it open as he idly decided what to do next. Finding someone was a priority, he mused, and pulled a purple-covered book from the desk. Maybe Snipes, or Engie. Someone who wasn't either totally batshit insane, or perpetually hammered.

"Alessa Gillespie," he murmured, and flicked it open. An average mathematics book, it seemed. He grabbed a text book, and looked at the label. "Midwich Elementary School... Silent Hill? Where the hell is Silent Hill?"

There was a faint crash from across the room, and he looked up in time to see a flicker of purple as someone darted out of the door.

"Hey, wait!"

He automatically ran, as a dog does, chasing anything that moves, but the figure always seemed to be several steps ahead. If he had stopped to think, he would have wondered at how suspicious that was; that he, the fastest in RED Team, was beating beaten by what appeared to be a small girl in a purple dress… but he didn't.

He ran until finally he ended up at a dead end, confused and more than slightly lost. The girl had vanished, and as he looked down he realised that he was still fervently clutching the mathematics book.

However, the cover now had 'Witch' scrawled across it in enormous blood-red letters.


	2. Chapter 2

Demoman opened his brown eye, and was immediately met with the sight of a bottle of whiskey.

"Ah, bloody ace," he grinned, and grabbed it. A disappointed 'tssh' left his mouth as he realised it was empty, and he cast around. He appeared to be in a bar, which was good enough for him; although everything seemed to be covered in a thin layer of grey dirt. He picked up another bottle, and grinned as  _this_  one sloshed merrily.

As he opened it and took a swig, he noticed that he seemed to be without weapons or friends. This did not unduly worry him, as this was often the case after waking up from a drunken stupor; he was often also without money, memories and a precise geographical location. It was getting to be so's it wasn't a good day if he woke up and still recognised the accents shouting at him.

He coughed as the liquid in the bottle caught the back of his throat. Bloody good stuff, apparently. He tried to read the label and on the third attempt realised that there wasn't one. The bottle was smooth and gray. He glanced around, and noticed that every single bottle, regardless of content was the same. This struck him as sort of odd, and then he ignored it.

As he turned to the window, something slammed its hand against the frosted glass, and he watched in hung-over interest as it began to scratch . It was clearly going to be one of those days.

* * *

Engineer's sea green eyes opened, shut, and then opened again. They simply refused to process what they were seeing until he had blinked them a third time, and even then he had to take off his goggles and give them a clean.

It was as if he'd died and gone to heaven. He was leaning against the wall in a room entirely filled by machinery that was wonderful beyond compare, even if parts were blood-red with rust and looked as if it hadn't been oiled in centuries. It was intricate and beautiful, and as he stood up, gazing at his surroundings in rapture, he failed to notice exactly where the blood-red rust  _was_ , and what it was coming from in particular.

He wandered around the room, every glance revealing a new phenomenal convolution; a glittering wheel of chrome amidst the rusted cogs and gears; a lever that still seemed to work suspiciously perfectly in the middle of the decay; a miniature flight of steps that led to another part of the room.

He didn't even notice that there was indeed no way out, so caught up was he in his adoring examination of the room. Eventually, though, even Engineer ran out of things to observe and so began to look for things to  _do_ , and in the process decided to pull the lever.

Soon afterwards, he found out exactly where the blood-red rust was from, and how much of it was rust indeed.

* * *

Pyro opened his eyes to darkness. This was marginally puzzling, but he found this could often be solved by adjusting his gas mask. When this failed to work and he noticed the sound of waves around him, he sat up and looked around.

He was in a boat. This was at least slightly confusing, as he had fallen asleep in his bed in RED base; there certainly wasn't  _this_  much water within a couple of hundred miles of the base. He seemed to be adrift in a reasonable sized lake, and it was snowing. He blinked, and peered in closer. No, it was precipitating ash. If there was something Pyro know a lot about, it was ash. This stuff was a real mixture; it was as if an entire town had gone up on smoke along with everyone and everything in it. His guess was a coal fire gone horrifically wrong, but it'd have taken a crapload of coal to cause it to rain ash. Maybe a mine fire.

"Mrrpgh?" he said aloud. There was no answer. Not that anybody other than the guys could've understood him, he thought rancorously. Maybe they were anchored a few feet away, watching him drift, laughing. That sounded right around Sniper and Demoman's idea of a laugh. He waved his arms, and there was nothing except a swift flurry of falling ash.

"Mph! Nmm hmmh!" he shouted, and waved his arms again. From his left there came a distant splashing, and Pyro shivered, drawing his legs in. He really was a fish out of water - or rather, a salamander out of fire.


	3. Chapter 3

Heavy opened his blue eyes. It didn't do him much good. The room was pitch-black, and he might as well have been trapped inside a black velvet box with a blindfold on.

He stood up, nervously, and when his head did not collide with the ceiling he was cheered by this success. Stretching out his arms proved that the room was, at least, big enough for him to move around in. He stepped forward, and there was a crunch, as if he had trodden in cereal. He recoiled, and then tried again. Another crunch. Nothing seemed to be arguing, and the floor seemed firm enough, so he stepped forward.  _Crunch_ ,  _crunch_ ,  _crunch_. The floor seemed lower on the crunch parts than others. How strange.

After five crunchy steps he made it back to respectively quiet ground, and stopped to consider his actions. A brief exploration revealed a wall to his right, and he made the decision to follow it round.

Three steps later, and something was tickling his left leg. He was quite sure of it, but whenever he stopped walking, the prickly sensation stopped.

Another two steps, and it was slightly higher up his leg. He stopped, and hiked up his trouser leg. He reached to where the tickle was, and picked something off of his leg that was roughly the size of a half-tennis-ball.

It wriggled, and the feeling sent disgusted shivers up Heavy's spine. He crushed it in his enormous fist, and it screamed at him in a disturbingly human voice.

"Agh!" Heavy bellowed in shock, and the shout was taken up by a chorus of shrill, wailing voices from everywhere. Heavy blinked furiously, trying to make out some shapes in the dark, and a single light flickered on in the centre of the room. It didn't light up much, but it reflected from millions beady little eyes that set on stalks above screaming mouths.

* * *

Spy opened his near-translucent grey eyes, and the Ambassador was aimed at the door before he'd even had time to blink. Fast reflexes were something you cultivated and never lost, especially as a member of RED Team, he thought acerbically.

He stood up, and looked around. The room was no bigger than a broom cupboard, and he strode over to the only door quickly, heels clicking on the floor. Was this some kind of joke? Had they locked him in a cupboard for a prank?

He stuck his head out. There was a long corridor, with other doors leading off either side, and everything was dark and grimy. He shuddered, and walked out.

There was a faint growl, and he shot at it automatically, spinning around to see what was there.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing was there at all.

The corridor was totally empty, and whilst it wasn't  _that_  long, it certainly wasn't short enough to hide something, and the growl had been close enough to alarm Spy. He backed away, and fired again. This time, there was a fleshy splatter as he hit the unseen enemy, and it whimpered, before giving another growl.

Spy backed away, eyes sweeping from side to side. Keep calm, his inner voice said. This is just like fighting the BLU Spy.

His inner voice then added, except one hit uncloaks him. And this creature sounds enormous.

Sometimes, the Spy really hated his inner voice.

As the steady growling got closer he decided to take the creature's advice and cloak. He raised his watch, pressed the button and vanished.

A few seconds later, he screamed.

* * *

Solder opened one eyes to a slit, and the thin beam of blue beneath shone as he scoped out the room surreptitiously. No Commie bastard was gonna get the jump on him as he woke up, no sirree. He may well be in his own base, but…

Wait. No, he wasn't.

He opened both of his eyes, and gave the room a thorough search, or as thorough as he could without standing up. It was quite clearly a prison cell, with bars at the door, and he had one hand cuffed to the leg of a small bunk. A piece of paper lay on the bed, but he ignored it for now, and concentrated on getting his beefy hand free. Five minutes later, he gave up on this, and began to look around, looking for a way out. He was not above 'chew through own arm' as at least a plan C.

"Maggots."

He stood up clumsily, and stretched as far as he could with his free arm. He was able to reach ninety-nine percent of the cell, and that was good enough for him. If he couldn't reach it, it clearly wasn't important.

If he had picked up the paper, he would've seen two words printed on it.

'Wrong side'.


	4. Chapter 4

Engineer pulled the lever, and the machine stopped. He was ice-white, sweat trickling from his forehead and down his back, and as he watched the blood run down from the holes in the machinery, he found his robotic hand clenching and unclenching with enough force to nearly snap itself.

"What the damn hell is this?" he muttered, and took a step forward. Hidden deep amongst the intricate mesh of gears, cogs, wheels and belts were lumps of what appeared to be flesh. As he blinked, pushing his goggles up his forehead to get a better look, his stomach gave a sickening lurch. There were bits of fingers, he saw, snapped off like raw carrot sticks, twisted skulls snapped and cracked between bits of machinery, even an entire pelvis with two chains running through the  _obturator foramen_. One of the nearest skulls, its jaw hanging off, the skin of its lip caught in twenty or so tiny sparkling cogs and  _just_  beginning to tear, had one eye hanging out of its socket.

As Engineer watched, the other eye swivelled up to look at him.

He reeled back, real hand thrown over his mouth in nausea and horror, slumping to the floor. His mind was reeling; he had seen enough flesh, blood and bones in his time, but the living remains trapped inside the machine, the contamination of the machine itself was queerly sickening to him.

"Dell."

The voice came from behind him, and he spun around. There was nobody there, but what there  _was_  was a gap at the base of the opposite wall, with light spilling out beneath. It was then he began to realise how  _dark_  it was in the room; the light seemed to be coming from the machine itself, from deep inside it. Maybe that was what had drawn him to it. He walked forward, and put his hand under the gap, testing it. It wouldn't budge, and he looked around. To get out of the door, he would have to turn the machine back on, which meant…

He walked back over the lever. He had killed before. It was sort of his job, really, using machines to kill people. The people had just normally died long before they reached the level of… disrepair they had here. He breathed in through his nose. Calm yerself, Dell Conagher. He put his hand on the lever and pulled once more.

This time, there were screams, and these weren't the dying yelp of a Sniper falling from his post or the last roar of a Heavy. These were shrieks of pain and sorrow and loss, and no matter how hard the Engineer gritted his teeth, ten seconds later he dragged the lever back, ears ringing. He was risking utter insanity. Those noises haunted him like nothing ever had, and he had cut his own hand off and screwed a robotic prosthetic onto the still-bleeding stub. He looked around him. The room was, if at all possible, even darker, and the red rust was creeping across the entire room. He did not want to be in here when all of the lights went out.

He would simply have to find another way out, that was all.

He walked along the walls, this time not marvelling at the elaborate exquisiteness of the machinery but looking at the people in the walls. He stared in, and finally his eyes focused on one of them.

"Oh god."

A pair of aviators hung from the crushed skull that still sported the tilted Stetson. The jaw had been forced upwards and sideways by the movement of an errant gear, and Engineer clapped a hand to his mouth as he watched the blood congeal around the pointed canine.

Then a skeletal hand, one finger snapped and twisted, lifted laboriously upward and pushed the hat upwards, allowing horrified green eyes to meet discoloured, yellowing, but still storm-grey and clear ones.

"Give me a hand, mate," the zombie-Sniper muttered, voice distorted.

Engineer fell over at that point, and began to shuffle away as clicking around him announced the movement of many towards one.

"No…" he stuttered, eyes wide. "No, please, Snipes… what the hell…?" This was a dream. It had to be a dream. There was no way in hell this could ever be real.

"Give me five, Dell!" a voice chirped from next to his ear. He turned, and one milky blue eye stared into his. The right side of zombie-Scout's skull had caved in, but this wasn't stopping the boy, who was attempting to crawl to Engineer. If his left leg hadn't been wound around a dull bronze wheel, he could probably have managed it. As Engineer watched in detached horror as the flesh and ligaments began to tear apart, Scout grinned lopsidedly.

"No," Engineer heard someone say. It sounded a bit like him. "No."

"Zis vill only hurt a little," a voice said, and he looked up. Whatever had happened to zombie-Medic, it had left him with little more than a sack of bloody pulp for a head. How he spoke from the mushy hole rimmed with teeth that seemed to pass for a mouth was not what was on Engineer's mind at that point. He brandished a syringe that was easily the size of Engineer's forearm.

"This is your fault," zombie-Scout said, and there was a sickening crunch as part of the bones in his warped leg snapped. He lurched forward, and grasped Engineer's glove. "You used the machine, Dell! You put it before us."

"Got to say," said zombie-Sniper, who was now halfway out of the wall of gears, his spine alarmingly bent, "kid's right, Dell. You couldn't see the humans for the machine." He sniggered, and blood bubbled out, dribbling down his neck.

Engineer jumped up, wielding his wrench as threateningly as he could when he was surrounded by zombie versions of his friends. They turned to him, and Medic giggled in a horrible parody of his usual infectious chuckle.

"You cannot fix people like zey are equipment, Dell," he said slowly. "Ve are separate beings."

"Dell."

That voice came from the door again, and Engineer turned around desperately, praying for someone to be there, to have opened the door, to save him. Alas, it was not to be. There was a slightly larger gap, under which light flooded, and he sprinted across.

"Machines can help, Dell, but they're not everythin'," zombie-Sniper said solemnly. He had wrenched his top half free, leaving his legs lodged in the wall, and his mutilated torso was now slowly crawling across the floor. A thin trail of blood and spinal fluid was now trailing him like an enormous slug across the floor. "Look."

Engineer looked, and he saw. He saw a shape that would fit his hand  _perfectly_  on the wall.

"No way," he said, hysterically. "No damn way."

"Dell, you know it is ze vay." Zombie-Medic sounded solemn as well. Engineer turned, and saw that all three were staring at him, stock still.

"Give us a hand," zombie-Sniper repeated, and as Engineer raised his hand, he realised, with relief, that it wouldn't fit. Not only was it the wrong hand, but it was slim, far too slim for anything other than a skeleton or a child.

"I can't," he said pleadingly. "Please, guys, don't kill me." He turned back, and the undead versions of his friends bared their teeth menacingly, and began to advance again. He turned back, and then looked again, before desperately shoving the Gunslinger through the gap. It fit perfectly.

There was a moment of brief pain, and then the wall slid upwards as the room darkened to black, allowing the now-one-handed Engineer to dive through the gap.

He looked back, and saw nothing. No zombie anyone. And then, in the centre of the black room, a flash of purple.

"Well done, Mr Conagher," a voice whispered. "But that was your life over the machine. Would you do that for your friends?"

And then nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello?" Sniper shouted, and picked the phone up from the bedside table. The cable dangled uselessly, and he slammed it down. "Oh, fer fuck's  _sake_ …"

He had tried everything he could; he had shouted out of the window, netting himself a sore throat and little else besides. He had explored every inch of the tiny, dusty bedroom and en-suite bathroom, and had come up with the following inventory: one bed, rusty. One bedside table, mouldy and rotten. One set of curtains, ash-covered. One very disgusting bar of soap, dropped and most  _certainly_ not picked up again. One kukri, one hat, one Sniper. Oh, and a mouldering old shower curtain that was probably not that shade of green when it was hung up.

So he turned his attentions to the outside corridor. Logically, if he had gotten up, he should be able to get down.

The Aussie edged along the corridor, kukri raised high. Every few steps he would stop, the disintegrating floorboards sinking under his feet, and he would listen. The light in the hallway was getting dimmer and dimmer and he did not want to go so far he could not see. Some primal instinct, older than he, older than perhaps anything, told him that something Bad was waiting for him in the dark.

He saw something then, for a split second, down the corridor. It looked human enough, but that noise from earlier hadn't convinced him. He walked towards it, and in the process noticed the staircase.

It had been completely obliterated, now nothing more than a plunge to the floor below - a floor littered with lethal spikes of wood and jagged metal railings. Someone could, theoretically, climb up, if they cleared the floor a little, but there was no way even he could climb down. Not without ending up as the Human Pincushion.

He tested his weight on the top step anyway, and as it creaked ominously, chunks of wood tumbling from it, he leapt back, and then knelt down, looking for something that could tell him exactly how he had gotten up. Surely he couldn't help slept through someone destroying a goddamn staircase. The thick layer of dust and grime on the wood convinced him that, whatever had happened, he had not gotten up that way as it had been like that for a long time, and he stood up, wandering down the corridor to see if there was a lift, or another staircase. It was no good; every door he tried seemed to be locked tight, and wouldn't respond even if he rammed it with his shoulder. It was the most unsettling feeling; as if they weren't there - as if the only door that was important was the one that was already opened to him.

As he stopped back at the staircase again, wondering if he could rig up some kind of ladder with the bed sheets, that horrific, choked gurgle sounded again, and the human figure came back into his mind for a split second before he turned.

Whatever the hell it was that stood behind him, it was definitely not human.

"Oh shit," Sniper groaned, stumbling away back into the open room as the figure staggered towards him, lurching torturously. "Oh shit…"

* * *

Engineer stumbled along the street, cradling his stump to him. It was not bleeding, thankfully, the base of the Gunslinger still stuck to the cauterised flesh, but it throbbed. What had that voice meant about his life over the machine? This had to be some sick and twisted joke.

He staggered around the corner, and leant himself against the wall, breath whooshing in and out of his mouth abrasively. As if it hadn't been a shit enough start to his day, now it was raining ash and it hurt to breathe. He allowed himself to sit against the wall, looking around himself. He was in a back alley between two houses, and as he considered hopping the fence to ask for help, directions, anything, he noticed something wholly terrifying.

The world was silent.

He stood up, and looked around him. Dead. The entire world was silent and motionless, save for the ash gently snowing from the sky. He looked around, and decided that where he just was could be the best place on earth to never be again. He carried on.

* * *

Sniper raised the kukri, and swung wildly at the creature, leaving a horrific gash across its stomach. It let out a horrific, stifled shriek and stumbled forward, almost falling on him. He felt vomit rise in his throat and pushed it back, fingers sinking into the slimy, rotten flesh, a putrid cloud of diseased stench rising from it. It stumbled over, and lay on the floor, twitching frantically.

Sniper sat down suddenly as well, eyes glazing over, and then clumsily flipped over, mercifully vomiting on the floor rather than himself. He stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and found that he was shaking all over as if he had been dropped into icy water. He stared at the monster again.

In the light, he saw that it seemed to be trapped inside a rotting layer of its own skin, struggling to free itself, and as it convulsed spastically he immediately stomped on what could presumably be called its head. He stumbled to the window, and, although thankfully not sick again, hung there for a while, panting, the cold, ashy air still more fresh than that putrid stink.

" _Snipes_!"

The cry had to be repeated before Sniper's ears could even register it. He looked to see Engineer waving from across the street, and immediately waved frantically back, almost launching himself out of the window.

"I'm stuck!" he shouted, throat hoarse. "The stairs've gone, mate!"

"I'll be up in a sec, Snipes!" Engineer shouted, and ran across the street. Sniper backed into the room, and, after dragging the…  _thing_  out into the corridor, stomach too empty to do more than retch, collapsed on the bed, closing his eyes. He began to bite the knuckle on his left hand thumb, a habit he'd left behind at eight years old. He was not even aware he was doing it, and the sharp pain did not even register.

He almost missed it at first, but soon, the noise rose to a pitch that he couldn't ignore, and he clapped his hands to his head to desperately block out the newest disturbance to his peace - the sad, lonely wail of a siren that rose and fell around him. He did not open his eyes until it had firmly gone. He had long ago decided that this was some kind of horrible nightmare, and he  _would_  wake up if only he didn't let himself buy into it.

The room was pitch black, and as he scrambled around for his lighter a crimson glimmer began to bleed back in through what seemed to be a boarded up window. Being fairly certain that none of the windows had been boarded up, this alarmed Sniper, and he leapt up, running to the gap. He began to pull at the boards in disbelief, whimpering slightly to himself, and as the phone on the bedside table began to ring, a childlike fear settled into his heart.

* * *

Engineer reached the bottom of the wrecked staircase just as the darkness began to smother the hotel. He clapped one remaining hand to his ear as the siren blared, and thus missed the screeching wail as something metal began to scrape its way along the rusted floor of the dark corridor.

* * *

"Hello?" Sniper quavered, holding the phone to his ear. He had run into the en-suite bathroom, which was now roughly three times its previous size with a blood-filled bathtub, against all logic, and was sat with his back to the door. Luckily the phone wasn't plugged in or even connected, then, he thought manically.

"Hello, son."

"Mum?" he whispered, voice hitching in his throat. His voice sounded oddly high-pitched, and he curled up, one arm around his knees, holding them to him.

"Oh, Jackson," his mother's voice whispered. "Are you out? With your friends?"

"No, mum, I'm… I'm alone, in a place called Silent Hill," Sniper whispered, tears filling his eyes. "Mum, help me…"

"Of course you're alone, son. You're a murderer," she said compassionately. "Your father tried to tell you, son." Sniper whimpered as he heard the sound of the great knife scraping against the floor. "I just called you to say goodbye. We're leaving you now."

"Mum? Don't go, mum, please," Sniper whimpered. "Mum, please, don't hang up, don't leave me…" The scraping stopped right outside the door. He curled up even tighter, his knees tightly hugged to him, in the same way as a wounded child.

"The town is being devoured by darkness," the woman on the end of the phone said. Her accent was fading with every word, becoming more American with every word, more husky and cold. "Goodbye, Jackson."

" _Don't leave me alone_!" he shrieked, and the door caved in.

Engineer heard the shriek from the story above, and his imagination ran rampant with exactly what could cause Sniper, the ever-imperturbable Aussie, to scream like a hurt child. He began to clamber up the wreckage of the staircase, as quick as a one-handed man could go.

" _No no no no no no please no don't leave me alone please_!"

"I'm comin', Snipes!" Engineer roared.

Sniper, cowered under the wreckage of the door, clutching the phone to himself and rocking side to side, heard his friend's cry, and as he struggled to stand up he heard the familiar sound of a wrench colliding with metal.

"Sniper,  _where are you_?" he heard Engineer shout desperately, and the sound of his friend in trouble flicked some unknown switch. He felt his legs steady, his skin stop crawling, and he grasped the telephone, heaving it at his unseen attacker.

The monster turned to him as the phone clanged off it, and he took in the red rusted helmet and the enormous weapon, before planting a rather ineffectual kick in the demon's chest. It glared at him, assumedly, and swung at him with the hand not holding the enormous knife, knocking him sideways.

There was a scuffling noise, and then a hand grabbed his, dragging him back up to standing. He stood up, clutching Engineer's hand, and the two clapped their hands to their ears as the siren wailed. A light began to grow in the room, so bright they were forced to shut their eyes, and finally, when the violent assault on their senses ended, they opened their eyes again.

The room was normal once more, frosted with dust, no sign of an enormous man wearing a gigantic red pyramid hat. Sniper stared at Engineer for a moment, and then hugged him, entire body shaking.

"Whoa, Snipes, calm, calm," Engineer said slowly, patting his back. Through Sniper's unhinged mumblings were clearly discernable the words 'alone' 'mother' and 'my fault', and he nodded uncertainty, clucking in what he assumed was a calming manner. It'd always worked on his sister when she'd hurt herself, and right now he was assuming this was the same issue on a larger scale.

"Where the fuck are we, Engie?" Sniper muttered miserably. "It's like being trapped in the worst bit of my mind." He blinked. "'Ere, what happened to yer arm?" Engineer quickly related the entire story of the machine room to Sniper, who nodded all the way through, and cringed at the grisly details.

"…I think the other's are gonna be here too," Engineer finished. "I think… I don' know, but I reckon this is some kinda test. Puttin' us in with our worst fears."

"Why?" Sniper asked, still sniffling gently. "How d'they  _know_ , Engie?"

"Ain't no surprise t'anyone that I love machines," Engineer reasoned. "'N' everyone knows you get on better with yer ma than yer pa. Easy thing to do to rig up a phone call."

Sniper lifted the phone up and Engineer saw the dangling cable.

"Mobile technology, my friend," he said, but Sniper noticed the uncertain tone in his voice. "Now, as for my friends in the machine room, not sure how they did that, but…"

"Listen, if we find someone else, say… Scout," Sniper said, "then we can ask them what happened to them."

"Right on, Down Under," Engineer nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

Scout was trapped.

He had explored a little more, and finally had found himself inside another classroom, this one looking out onto a playground with an abandoned climbing frame. He had found the image wistfully eerie and turned to leave again, and found the door locked and barred. He had pounded on the door, pleaded, and with little to no result had decided on climbing out of the window.

A siren had wailed at that point, and all the lights had gone out. This had not gone down well - not that the Scout was scared of darkness. Nuh-uh. No damn way. Even if his eldest brother David  _had_  locked him in the attic when he was six and left him there for six hours. Being scared of the dark was for pansies.

Then the lights had come back on, and… everything was  _wrong_.

The walls were a rusted, deep red, and the desks had turned into… well, they were technically still desks. They just had restraints - with spikes on the  _inside_ , he noted uncomfortably - and when opened contained - things. Things that he didn't quite think were suitable for schoolchildren. Things with bits of brain and blood and flesh still attached. The windows were barred on the  _inside_ , almost as if it were to keep something out rather than in, and in general it was very much less a school and very much more a prison.

But on the plus side, there was, suddenly, a door. Admittedly, 'door' was quite a mundane term for the hulking, rusted metal egress that had decided to fill in the job vacancy left by the quite homely wooden door. 'Portal to the hell dimensions' could've done quite nicely. 'Obsidian death gate' was a good one, too. But right then, he'd have settled for 'exit'.

And now he was creeping down the corridor, baseball bat held high, listening to the various little noises all around him. This place was horrible. It reminded him of school, obviously, and how much he had hated that. He had felt trapped, humiliated by people who expected him to use his brains over his speed, and now, here, in this corroded hellhole, it was a million times worse. He couldn't build up any kind of momentum in this building of dark twists and turns. And there was strange noises everywhere-

There was a cough, and he turned to see the flash of purple again, halfway up a set of twisted stairs. His legs were almost moving before he thought, and he instead stood his ground, calling to the figure.

"Hello?"

The purple stopped, and he walked slowly and carefully towards the stairs. This took an astonishing amount of self-control from the young man, and as he got closer the girl was watching him with something tantamount to astonishment.

"Uh, little girl?" he said, and she looked at him. "Listen, it, er, it ain't safe out here. Where d'you come from?"

"Jack," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, and she smiled.

"We've been expecting you," she murmured, and he shook his head. "We have. Look outside… everybody's waiting." She motioned to the window, and he looked out. A yellow hardhat had him race to it, girl forgotten.

Engineer was stood in the courtyard below, looking up at the window. If Scout had thought about it, the stillness of his pose was something that should have unnerved him, but it didn't connect. He threw open the window and shouted to the man.

Engineer turned his back to him.

"Huh?" Scout gasped, and the girl giggled.

"You're not a quick  _learner_ ," she accused him, and he looked at her. He looked back… and Sniper was stood there. No sign of Engineer.

"Snipes?" he tried, his voice coming out hoarse and wobbly. There was something  _wrong_.

He turned back to the girl and… she'd vanished. As had Sniper when he turned back to the window. He began to climb the stairs. What was going on? Who was the strange little girl? Was this a dream?

Wrapped up in such thoughts, he was unprepared for the attack from above. Something wrapped around his face and he shrieked, sound muffled by the gag of putrid flesh that dragged him up. He clutched onto the figure, clawing at it, and he felt panic bubble in his chest.

His vision was filled with stars as the thing swung him into a wall, and as he opened his mouth to scream again, his mouth was filled with decomposing meat. He struggled again, and with every toss and turn, it seized him tighter, heavy arms grasping his torso and crushing until he thought he was going to pass out.

He slumped, the pain overwhelming - maybe it had broken a rib. Did ribs grow back? He would have to ask Medic - and as he did so, noticed that the monster relaxed slightly. This caused a light bulb to flash in his head. Maybe, if he pretended to be dead… it would let him go. Pretending to be unconscious had gotten him out of street fights before now, he remembered, and relaxed, letting himself hang. The monster let go slightly, but this presented him with a new problem; he was now slowly strangling. Another few inches and he could drop to the ground and run, but if he dropped now he would break his ankle, or his neck. He tried to breathe in through his nose, and thought about how strange it was that, as a person who had spent his entire life making noise, running headfirst into fights and using his speed and noise to his own advantage, his existence now relied on his stillness and silence.

Another inch and he reckoned he could do it; the world was slowly beginning to spin, and he desperately bit, as hard as he could, into the thing's flesh.

It screeched and dropped him, and he hit the ground awkwardly, his ankle collapsing sideways. He gave a shriek and hit the floor, whimpering softly. Any minute the thing would grab him, and he would have his neck snapped, ribs crushed. If only his mother was here, he thought, and scratched that immediately. He would have willingly died for his mother, and bringing her to a place like this would mean he would have to.

He laid still, eyes closed; as time passed he thought about other things. The guys on his team. Where were they? Did they know where he was? Where they… were they looking? Did they care about what had happened to him?

Probably not, he thought, and, ashamed as he was, tears began to form in his eyes. He was a dick. He was  _always_  a dick, he thought regretfully. He was a motor mouth little brat whose legs moved faster than his brain. But surely they'd care enough to come look for him?

No.

No they wouldn't.

They would be  _glad_. They would be glad that they never had to deal with him again. They would be glad that there would never be another breakfast filled with the annoying yap of his voice, another fight punctuated by his shouts of 'boink!', another day of him stealing their stuff, teasing them, irritating, drip, drip, like Chinese water torture. On and on. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was coming for him. As his friends would not be.

They had ignored him before - if that had even been them. He was unsure, suddenly. This new world where he had woken up seemed to be stranger than anything he could imagine.

He thought how he would never ever raise his voice again if just someone would come looking for him, and the tear rolled down his cheek, past his ear, and  _plink_ 'd gently against the iron floor.

He saw part of the floor sizzle off and go flying upwards, and as another tear hit the floor his vision fuzzed up, until all he could see were the faint outlines of the light and dark.


	7. Chapter 7

" _Wrong side."_

Soldier glanced up, and to his surprise there was a little girl staring curiously at him; he stared back out of the cell at her, before slowly standing up and moving towards her, hindered only by the handcuffs, which he only remembered when they nearly tore off his hand.

"Little… girl?" Talking to children had never been his forte. He had an unfortunate tendency to assume they were nothing but small adults, with all the inherent annoyances and idiocies. "Can you help me?" he asked, and she tilted her head.

"But you don't listen," she whispered, and her voice was as many voices layered into one. Soldier took a step back, eyes widening beneath the tin helmet. "You never listen, Mr Doe. You always know the best way." He shook his head, and she nodded, beginning to fidget with the ragged hem of her dirty purple dress.

"Are my friends here?" he asked, and she shook her head, biting her lip nervously.

"You don't have friends," she told him, and giggled. "You have a team." Soldier nodded. Maybe this kid actually understood. "You lead the team. You don't listen to them."

"They listen to me," he muttered. "That's how it works, kid! They need to follow orders! Learn some discipline-"

"You're not listening to  _me_ ," she sang, and took a step closer. "If you listened to your team, Mr Doe, you might learn something. But as it stands, your…  _friends_ … aren't in Silent Hill."

Soldier slumped back. So, he was alone. Then he shook himself. He had killed six goddamn thousand people alone. What was it that gangly Aussie kept saying? 'You don't have to rely on other people if you never miss'? And he was always poncing around with that goddamned Engineer. Surely, Soldier could manage this alone. He looked sidelong at the girl, and she darted forward, kneeling next to the bars and tapping a stone on the floor.

"Look, Mr Doe. And listen," she whispered, and then ran off down the corridor. Soldier considered shouting her back, and then looked at the stone she had tapped. He knelt down, and began trying to lift it.

It came loose very easily, and he looked at the underside of the rock. There was a key glued onto it, and this made him  _very_  happy. However, there was also writing.

_'Wrong side.'_

"What  _is_  this?" Soldier muttered, and threw the rock. It hit the ground, bounced against the gap between the bars… and there was a faint clink, as if it had hit some invisible shield. His mouth dropped open, and he listened for the first time. He stood up, placed his hand against the hitherto unnoticed painted-glass-wall, and picked up the rock, a smile on his face.

 _Tshh_.

It was a very clean sound, and as he turned to see that the entire cell had shattered into pieces, revealing a very open door behind the other side, his shoulders relaxed a little. He wasted no time in undoing his restraints, whilst wondering, ironically, what kind of lunatic he was up against. Painted glass walls?

"Very good," came the little girl's whispered voice. "You listened."

"Men?" came a very frightened, extremely accented voice. " _Où êtes-vous_?"

"Spy?" Soldier murmured, and there was a chuckle.

"Not everything invisible down here is your friend," the girl told him quietly. "Listen." Soldier edged down the corridors, and heard faint, shuffling footsteps. Was it Spy? Was it something else? He wondered idly what the little girl had meant, and as the invisible being rounded the corner, it let out a low growl.

He hit it with the shovel, and it collapsed to the ground, whimpering. He hit it again to be on the safe side, and ran towards where he thought Spy's voice had come from.

* * *

Spy, meanwhile, was wandering through the prison, shivering. He kept flickering in and out of invisibility, seeing monsters on the edge of his vision as he drifted. Once or twice, he could swear he heard the shout of the Soldier, but right now, he was not prepared to commit to anything. If he was visible, he could not see  _them_ , and he was not entirely sure they could see him - they sensed him, yes, but they could not  _see_  him; but when he was cloaked, they could see. Oh god. They could see him…

"Spy!"

"Soldier?" Spy mewled, stumbling around the corner, to be met with a spade that whistled past his ear and rebounded off the wall next to his head. He did not care. He could put up with this any day compared to what he had seen. What was  _following_  him.

"What in hell do you think you're doing, you cheese-eatin' surrender monkey!" Soldier growled. "Wanderin' around whimpering half-invisible?"

"Can you see zem?" Spy demanded. " _Tell me_." He clutched onto Soldier's arm, and Soldier shook him off, concerned. As weird as today had been - being locked inside a giant painted-glass prison, having a little girl tell him the way out - he was damn sure it had not been weird enough to merit out-and-out-hysteria, especially not from the man whose balaclava was the most expressive thing about him.

"I can't see anything except a hysterical goddamn  _frog_!" he bellowed, and Spy clapped his gloved hand over the American's mouth. " _Mpph_!"

"Shut up," Spy said desperately, and Soldier could see that he was not joking. "Zey will  _hear_  you!" Soldier reluctantly stayed quiet, and shook his head.

"Damn things are invisible anyway, and I've killed you plenty of times…" he muttered, and Spy put his finger to his lips.

"Zey are not invisible to me," he muttered, and Soldier grinned.

"Well then, what do they look like?" he asked.

Spy told him.

"Bullshit," Soldier said frankly. "That's impossible." Spy shook his head, and lifted his balisong. "Bet you hated that. Can't backstab somethin' without a back."

"Trust me, whether I could stab it was z-the least of my problems…" Spy said quietly, accent slowly coming back under his control. "I was more focused on getting away."

* * *

"We're lost, aren't we, Tex?"

"C'mon, Snipes, that ain't a positive attitude."

"Sorry, my estranged mother just rang me an' told me I was gonna die. Screw you an' yer positive attitude, mate."

"Chill ya boots, Snipes, we…"

The conversation was slowly winding its way along a road that cut Silent Hill into two as the duo trekked along it. Once or twice, they would stop, investigate a car that lay mouldering in the dust, or try one or two door handles. The unlocked houses were always the same; deserted, but as if in the middle of something. One house had had a meal set out on the table, rotten to the core. It should've been thick with flies, but there was not a sound or movement. Another house had had a child's cot with the side down, and a pink toy rabbit with 'Robbie' on the tag left abandoned in the middle of the floor. This had been unnerving, to say the least.

All the cars were devoid of petrol. The feeling came back to Sniper that they were being led in some undeterminable way, but any attempts to broach this to Engineer had resulted in utter denial.

"Well, if we keep walkin', I'm sure we'll hit the edge a'… whoa."

Engineer stopped, and grabbed Sniper's arm. Just as well, as a second later and Sniper would have tumbled from the edge of the road. Tumble being the correct word.

It was as if someone had taken an enormous saw to the world. Silent Hill simply ended there, the road ending in a cliff that went down, down, as far as the eye could see. Sniper stared in horror at the drop, Engineer lifting his goggles to get a better look.

"Goddamn."

* * *

"Mmph…"

Pyro was lying in the foetal position at the bottom of the boat. Those splashing sounds were everywhere; he would think they had stopped, and then from behind him there would be another. And then, another. And then another.

"Hmmm hmph…" he murmured to himself, and stuck his head out of the boat. That infernal fog was still everywhere, and he couldn't see further than his own hand. He sat up, wafting at the fog that hung just over the water, and a hand closed on his wrist.


	8. Chapter 8

"It's nae  _workin'_!"

Demoman was sat in the bar, swigging desperately on the latest drink that he had unearthed. Around him lay several piles of empty bottles, and he was desperate. The more he drank, the more sober he seemed to become, and the more the gravity of the situation sank in. It was getting unreal.

"Fuck this," he decided firmly, and threw the bottle against the floor. Against all expectations, it bounced, and rolled away across the floor. "I'm gettin' oot."

He stood up, noting with slight surprise how much  _easier_  it was to walk in a straight line - sobriety was saved for the two or so weeks he spent at home every year, and was therefore an uncommon occurrence. He strode over to the door, and, recoiling slightly at the slightly damp rust on the handle, wrestled it open.

The creature on the other side stared at him, and he stared back for a moment.

"Oh. Uh… crap."

The thing chattered and dived for him, and he slammed the door shut, staggering back. He pressed an eye to the window, and the thing scraped its claws down the glass.

It was about a foot smaller than him, and a sickly green colour, veins throbbing under its skin. It moved like a spider, and it seemed to have two curved knives plunging from its back, that almost looked like rudimentary wings. But Demoman was watching the mouthful of teeth that snapped inches away from his face. He dived back, and it searched wildly for him, its ugly blunt head snapping around like a shark. It didn't have any eyes. That didn't make it better.

* * *

Heavy, meanwhile, was stuck.

He was sat in the small pool of light in the middle of the room, looking around him at the chittering rivers of insects; if they could be called that. Each one had a human face, and every time he moved they would scream at him. This on its own was unnerving. Peeling them off of his shoes had been downright _disturbing_. He had a terrible feeling that he was going to have to wade through them to find a way out. The thought sickened him a little, but not as much as their constant rustling and chattering did.

" _They are tiny compared to me_ ," he said in Russian, hoping that his voice would give him some confidence. He was drowned out by a chorus of irritated chitters. " _Surely I can destroy them._ "

He stood up, and hesitantly raised his boot high. However, that was where things went very, very wrong.

The light went out, and, flailing his arms in shock, he fell forward instead, landing face first in the trench full of insects. He screamed, and felt them rush into his mouth in a screeching wave.

* * *

" _Mpph mhh mphh phh!_ "

Pyro shrieked and tumbled backwards, and the thing reared above him. He only saw it for a brief second, but it was cold and blue and slimy looking. And then it crashed down on top of him, and he was under the water and he couldn't breathe and everything was blue and ringing and he couldn't  _breathe_ …

Something brushed him, and as he floundered desperately, he saw two enormous eyes go past him in the blue gloom. He realised that, with his flamethrower on his back, he was never going to make it to the surface, and that if he didn't make it to the surface, he had the delightful options of drown or be eaten. He struggled wildly, and managed to free himself from the awkward contraption at the same time as something as rubbery as firehose closed around his ankle. It felt like tentacles. He really, really didn't want it to be tentacles. There were terrifying connotations to that.

Finally his head broke the surface, and as his mask drained he gulped in lungful of cold air. He was much nearer the shore than he had been… and with this slightly cheering thought in mind, he swam desperately for the edge of the water. He would take whatever he found there. Anything to be out of this cold dark world.

* * *

Demoman smashed the bottle in the green demon's head, and it chittered wildly, scratching at his eye. From outside, he could hear what sounded like a swarm of bees approaching, and he knew that it wasn't going to end well at all. He could barely subdue the one - ten or more and he would be done for. He cast around wildly, lashing out with a boot, and caught the creature in the throat. There must be something to help, anything…

And then, his heart leapt.

On the other side of the bar, on the shelf normally reserved for the stronger liquors, sat his grenade launcher. Maybe, he could take out a few of them. If he could take down the building with them inside, maybe more. But that'd mean blowing up the entire bar, and he was sure someone was going to have a slight problem with that. Normally he would baulk at the destruction of something so precious to him, but right now he would happily have sacrificed all the alcohol in the world to not be where those chittering noises were headed. He grinned to himself, eyeing up all the still full bottles. Especially since the alcohol would, right now, add to the flames and create a rather pleasant explosion.

He turned, put a hand on the bar, and with grace and dexterity nobody would ever have attributed to the drunk, cleared the wooden counter; with another movement, he hoisted the weapon onto his shoulder, and, giving yet another, rather impressive leap, cleared the counter again, charged out of the doorway to assess the situation, and screeched to a halt.

There were thousands. Thousands upon thousands of green fairies, all watching him. Clustered like Harvestmen spiders on the buildings, teeth chattering wildly at him. Flitting through the air against all logic and physics, scythe-like claws raised to attack. One or two hundred were packed onto the streets, muttering and giggling to each other.

Demoman realised this in a matter of seconds, and backed very slowly into the bar again, astonished by how  _amazing_  he felt sober. He raised the grenade launcher, and smiled.

The creatures dived for him.

* * *

 _Boom_.

"What th' hell?" Sniper gasped, turning around so suddenly that Engineer had to grasp him to stop him tumbling off'f the edge of the world. This was a sentence and action he hoped never to think again in his mind.

"Stop sayin' that over 'n' over 'n' come find out!" the engineer muttered, and the two men ran around the corner to see a large explosion from across town. Flakes of ash were fluttering in the air, and a cloud of smoke was beginning to rise. Only the flames gave any hint that the world had not suddenly become monochrome.

"Demo," they said in unison, and sprinted off down the street. Or at least, they started to. They had gotten halfway down the road when Sniper felt the grip on his windpipe and skidded to a halt, mentally frisking himself for his inhaler.

"G-g-" he croaked, and, clutching his throat, bent double. "E-Engi-"

"Snipes?" Engineer said, turning around. "Oh, goddamn… you got that nebuliser thing?" Sniper shook his head, breath rasping, and Engineer looked around. "Well…  _shit_."

"I… just… sit down…" Sniper rasped, and fell backwards to sit on the steps of the building they were in front of. "W-where's that… goddamned Medic when… ya need him?" This was the trouble with owning a medical device that had really only been around for ten years or so. You tended to forget it existed.

Engineer opened his mouth to reply, when he saw the flash of purple inside the doorway of the building. His mind rewound back to that horrible moment as he lay outside the golden machinery room, and he clapped his hand to his mouth.

"It's the girl!" he gasped, and Sniper looked up in confusion.

"W-w…?" he began, and Engineer turned to him, gesticulating at the door for emphasis. "The girl?"

"The little girl I saw!" Engineer expounded, remembering Sniper had not seen her as yet. "She's in there, Snipes! C'mon!" He hooked his useless arm around his friend, and lifted him up. "We'll go in there. You don't have t'run anywhere."

"Midwich… Elementary?" Sniper said slowly. The breathe was beginning to creep unwillingly back into his lungs, like a scolded dog to its master. "Well, that sounds like somewhere a kid would be."

"A kid…?" Engineer said slowly. "The kid. Scout. Scout's gonna be here."

"…and how'd you figure that?" Sniper asked. "Let's see if they got a school nurse's office. I wanna see if some kid left behind an inhaler." Engineer nodded, and they began to walk slowly through the old school.

"Look at this," Engineer said uneasily as they turned down yet another corridor. Against the faded lavender paint, there were murals and pictures. All seemed to be the typical school drawings; men and women and people of ambiguous gender with enormous crayon smiles scrawled across them, feet the size of boats and eyes black dots in shiny pink faces, dogs the size of small vans, but further inspection revealed them all to be slightly wrong. There was cartoon blood in bright red stripes across the pictures, and some of the people pictured appeared to be screaming.

"Mate? Is this the girl?" Sniper asked slowly, and Engineer turned from the picture he was currently captivated with; it depicted a woman with red hair holding down a white sheet that was streaked with red and smiling cruelly.

Sniper was stood before a door that bore a childish picture of a young girl. She wore a purple dress, and, as little as the detail was, her hair covered her face, and she appeared to be peering shyly through it.

"That's the girl, Snipes," Engineer said, reaching out to pick up the paper. He turned it over, looking at the back, and finding nothing of interest, turned it back over. "Whoa!"

"What?" Sniper asked, peering over his shoulder. The picture had changed, quite noticeably. The girl was pointing left, down the long, dark corridor, and Engineer pinned it to the door with his stump before scratching at the waxy crayon with a finger. It came off, leaving a purple smudge on the paper.

"How in the damn hell did it do that?" he asked, and Sniper shrugged.

"You take a look down there. I'll go in here an' look about. If ya find the kid, shout," he suggested, and Engineer nodded, dropping the picture and turning away. Sniper took a deep breath, and turned the door handle.

The room inside was dark, and he stepped forward, fingers searching for a light switch. He found one, switched it on, and gasped.

There were at least twelve children in the room with him, all staring at the same desk. Laying with her head on the desk was another, the girl from the picture.

"Hello?" Sniper tried to say, and found his words dying in his throat. The little girl looked up at him, tears cutting swathes through the ash on her face, and smiled. "Are you okay?"

Then all the other children turned to him, and he saw the blood on their faces. He didn't scream, thankfully. He kept it in, and they all pointed to the floor at his feet.

"Do what you do best. Look," the little girl said, and he glanced down. As soon as he looked back up, they had vanished, and he looked back down, then up, in shock. And then back down.

Foot prints. Those stupid trainers that the boy wore, kept in a box safe, valued more than practically anything in that pit of a room. He turned, and pulled open the door, just as he heard Engineer shout.

"I found the kid, Snipes!"

Sniper rushed around the corner to find Engineer knelt next to Scout. Scout was staring at the ceiling, tears slowly drawing pink trails through the grey dust that'd settled on his face.

"Hey, kid, you… you alright?" he tried, kneeling down also.

"Please be real," the boy mouthed. He didn't move, and kept staring up at the ceiling. Sniper followed his line of sight, and saw what appeared to be gory handprints. "I promise I'll be quiet, I'll listen, I'll be good, if you're real. Please be real."

Engineer grasped the boy's hand, patting it sympathetically.

"Kid, we are maybe the only real things in a hundred miles of here," he said in a low voice, and Scout looked at him, slowly blinking. "Now, you have to get up before those things-"

"You saw them too?" Scout whispered hoarsely. "I bit one, but it went away when I pretended to be dead." He clutched desperately onto Engineer's hand. "Please, Tex, don't leave me alone in this place."

"What did you see?" Sniper asked sharply, and noticed the blood around Scout's mouth. "What is  _that_? Are you bleedin', kid?"

"I bit it," he murmured, and stood up, staggering. Engineer and Sniper stood up as well. "I had to bite it to make it let me go." Then he proceeded to be heartily sick all over Sniper's shoes. The man stepped back and then, so as not to appear cruel, half-heartedly patted Scout's back until the young man was done.

"You bit one of those things?" the Aussie asked, and Scout nodded, wiping his mouth and spitting, this time onto one of Engineer's boots.

"I feel like I ate crap," he muttered. "Did you guys come past here before?"

He was quickly brought up to speed by the other two as to what had happened to them, and he told them his story in turn, earning a sickened grimace from both men.

"So it's a fair bet the whole team's here. Some kinda trick by BLU…" Engineer said, looking around, and Sniper shook his head.

"These bastards are real," he cut through, looking sickened. He remembered the spongy feeling as his hands sank into the monster's flesh, and he quickly wiped his hands on his shirt, trying to get the memory off more than any physical dirt.

"Well… who'd 'a thought shuttin' yer mouth woulda saved yer skin, kid?" Engineer said, punching Scout lightly on the arm. Scout nodded, and spat again. "Well, we gotta get out."

"What was that explosion?" Scout asked softly. Sniper looked him up and down. He seemed to have shrunk into himself, hands knotting ceaselessly around each other, feet pointed in towards each other; a nervous school-child. "I heard somethin', but… but…"

"Oh hell, that," Engineer remembered, putting his hand to his face. "Well… we're wastin' time just standin' around." He looked at Sniper, who was biting his thumb nervously, and Scout, who was now cupping both his elbows in his hands, embracing himself tightly. "Let's find these bastards an' make 'em pay."


	9. Chapter 9

As Pyro reached the shore, chest heaving in agony, he pulled himself onto a jetty, arms spread out as if he were embracing the earth. As ash began to settle onto his body, a voice called out… inside his mind. A voice Aidan Davis very rarely heard in a normal context. The voice of the  _real_ Pyro.

_Where in the hell are we?_

Not you, Aidan thought dully. Please.

 _Aidy, come on. I'm not going to make you do anything stupid_ , the voice in his head said in a wheedling tone.  _I just want to know where we are. I was having a lovely nap when I opened my eyes… your… our eyes and saw all this lovely ash everywhere. Did you do this?_  There was a delighted chuckle that echoed off of Aidan's cerebellum.  _Oh, Aidy, I'm so proud!_

It wasn't me, Aidan told his firebug other half, and there was a sigh of disappointment. Oh, I'm so sorry.

 _Shush. Why are we all wet?_  Pyro asked, confused, and Aidan explained.  _Oh. Right. A monster? Um… okay._  There was an awkward pause.  _Are you sure? I mean, they, er… don't exist_. Another awkward pause.  _That's… mad. Hah._

Is my split personality really telling me I'm mad?Aidan asked in disbelief.

 _Yes_.

Oh.

 _Don't worry. We'll get out of here._  Pyro sounded cheerful.  _Just listen to me-_

No!

 _AIDAN_.

Aidan bit his lip. Pyro never called him Aidan unless he was very displeased, or trying to get something. He was 'Aidy', like a little child who had done something adorable and deserved praise.

_That's better. Now, you listen to me. I'm going to let you be in control of this, but you have to do exactly what I say…_

* * *

Heavy was drowning in a pool of screaming bodies.

He flailed wildly, spitting and coughing and desperately trying to expel the disgusting taste of insect from his mouth, and in doing so, his foot hit where logically the bottom of the pit should have been, finding only empty space. This led to the unwelcome confirmation of his previous thought; he really was going to have to wade through them. He was going to have to dive down there.

He began to struggle, but every time he did so, the insects chittered towards him, buoying him up. Clearly, this was going to take some thinking. Heavy did  _not_ enjoy thinking.

* * *

Demoman sprinted down the road, grenade launcher bouncing over one shoulder. He was very lost, but he could still hear  _very faint_  chittering on the edge of his aural range, and he was prepared to do almost anything to get away from it.

He stumbled to a halt to grasp onto a street sign. Katz Street? He'd never heard of a Katz Street, but the bar he'd been in had been called Neely's Bar, and he'd never heard of that either. Not having heard of somewhere did not mean you were automatically due a taxi home. He glanced around, and there was a flash of purple.

"Oi!" he shouted, and gave chase as the shadow vanished into an alleyway. "Bloody kids…"

As his feet clanked across the grating that formed the floor, he happened to look down.

* * *

Heavy knew what he had to do. Moving and struggling against the tide of smaller creatures was getting him nowhere, and besides, he was beginning to run out of energy. So he took in a deep breath, and sank.

The wave of insects broke over him, and he kept his enormous arms by his sides, trying to keep a last shred of his sanity as thousands of legs dug into him.

He resurfaced, and his arms clung onto what felt like iron bars above him. He stayed there until his arms felt as if they were going to break, eyes squeezed tight shut. He would wake up in his bed, whichever one; the hard-mattressed one in RED Base, across the room from his Doctor, or his comfy one in Siberia, with Sacha at the foot of the bed, and he would get up and get a sandvich and…

" _Heav_ '?"

He opened his eyes, and looked up. Demoman was stood above him, gloriously real, and holding a grenade launcher.

"Demoman! Help me!" Heavy roared, and Demoman knelt down immediately, and started tugging at the grating. "Please, Demo!"

"What in th'bloody 'ell are  _those_?" Demoman asked, staring at the insects that still swarmed around Heavy's ankles. He tugged part of the grating up, and Heavy clambered out, flailing desperately at himself until the last of the tiny cockroaches fell from his body.

"Where are we?" Heavy asked, looking bewildered. "There are terrible insects all over room, have human faces."

"I dinnae ken, Heav," Demoman said, and outlined his experience with the Green Fairies. "…and I dinnae ken where any'n else is, either."

"Doktor is here. I tell," Heavy said firmly, and Demoman let it pass. Heavy and Medic seemed to have some sixth-sense in their friendship, and if Heavy knew Medic was here, he knew it. It was of no use to argue.

"Alright… where?" he asked, and there was a scream.

* * *

Soldier and Spy crept through the catacombs, the former wielding his shovel like a baseball bat, the latter behind him, one hand on his shoulder, still shaking.

"Quit it, froggie," Soldier snapped. "You're making me nervous."

"Shut up, Soldier," Spy hissed as they reached what appeared to be a long, long row of prison cells. "Let us just get out of 'ere."

"You're the one makin' the noise, Frenchie!" Soldier growled, and there was an answering growl. "Gah, what was that?"

"Maybe it was a Communist," Spy muttered, and Soldier's eyes flickered to his watch. "What?"

"Go invisible. See what it is," Soldier ordered, and Spy shook his head, eyes filling with fear again. "Do it, soldier!"

"No! They'll… they'll see me!" Spy stammered, backing away, and something clawed at his arm. " _Ah_!"

"What in the hell?" Soldier snarled, swinging with the shovel, and they rebounded off the bars of the cell as there was another howl of anger. "Holy crap, these things are everywhere! You have to cloak!"

"I don't  _want to_!" Spy shouted desperately, and something clamped around his arm. He turned, wielding his balisong in shaking hands, and shook his head. "You  _owe_  me, American…" He pressed his watch, and vanished.

The first thing he saw were the frightening number of the monsters.

There were many, he saw, in the cells, all staring at him with four eyes filled with… with terror. He inspected them in curiosity, walking forward, and one reached one set of its hands out to him in supplication.

They were abominations; as if somebody had seen the Human Centipede and gotten the wrong ideas. It were as if two people had been stitched together, back to back, and then tied together with strips of bloodied skin and leather, and set upon their feet to wreak havoc on the world. The bottom human, more masculine – possibly – grunted softly at him, and intertwined his fingers with the feminine atop him.

"You poor bastard," Spy muttered, and Soldier cleared his throat tactfully, having removed himself from the cell area.

"Where in the hells are they?" he asked, as politely as he could muster. He wasn't achieving anything with force – and what was it Shovel had once told him? Politeness never cost anything – so it looked like, if he wanted a square answer, he'd have to be… nice to Spy. Ugh. This place was weird.

"They're in the cells,  _mon ami_ ," Spy called back, still staring into the monster's eyes. "They cannot get out as long as you stay in the middle. Let us go."

Soldier took a decisive stomp into the cell area again, and the monster's eyes… changed. Then it lunged forward, snarling, and Spy leapt back. But it wasn't reaching for him. It was reaching for… Soldier, teeth snapping and snarling, the female wailing and sobbing, arms wrapped around herself in a tight embrace.

"Get  _back_!" Spy shouted, sprinting for him, and pushed him out of range. Soldier's eyes registered alarm, and Spy reappeared in front of him, panicked and flushed. "Zey're going for  _you_!"

"For  _me_? What d'ya mean,  _Private_!" Soldier roared, and Spy pointed at the cells frantically. Then he took a deep breath.

"The monsters," he said, voice so incredibly flat and calm it was a wonder he didn't win some kind of acting award, "are coming for you. They are coming for you! They are trying to attack you."

"Bull _shit_ ," Soldier snapped, and Spy actually stamped his foot like a little girl.

"You stupid American imbecile," he snarled. "You cannot take orders or instruction from  _anybody_! Even your  _friends_!"

Soldier stared at him, the little girl's words echoing through his mind. He couldn't, could he? Even when those orders would save his life…

 _No_! said a voice in the back of his head.  _You aren't seriously considering taking orders from a FROG, are ya?_

Then he heard one of the growls, and decided that, right now, tactics and logic were smart. For, had Sun Tzu not said,  _if fighting is sure to result in victory then you must fight_? Right now, he wasn't sure how much of a Pyrrhic victory it could turn out to be.

"Okay," he said, and lowered the shovel. "Okay. What do we do…  _sir_?"

* * *

"These're Snipes' boots," Demoman said, looking down at the prints in the ash. "Look, they've got th'wee kangaroo on 'em 'n'all."

"So Sniper go this way with two others…" Heavy said, and Demo nodded. "And so… Pyro?"

"Nae. His shoes 're more like welly-boots," Demo said firmly. "I'd say Engineer or… maybe Solly."

"Okay. So we follow, we find?" Heavy said hopefully, and Demo looked at the ground. The ash was falling thick and fast. "But we go quick."


	10. Chapter 10

Soldier was not used to taking orders. He was extremely used to giving them, but being on the other end of the barking tone was not something he was interested in. But, to his surprise, Spy did not bark. He did not make animal noises in the slightest. Instead, he spoke calmly and clearly, and rationally.

"There is one to your left, Soldier. Step to your right."

Soldier did so, and felt something swipe his elbow.

"And now arms in. More. They are either side of you. Forward… stop!"

Soldier glanced behind him. He was more than halfway already. So nearly at the other end. He gripped onto Shovel tightly.

"Just three more to go. They are all on the left, but there might be one hidden on the right."

He edged forward, eyes flicking from side to side, and as he stepped onto the other side of the cells, Spy reappeared, and patted him on the arm.

"See, not so hard, was it," he murmured, and Soldier nodded, patting him back with all the natural aptitude for the motion as a goldfish. "Let us move on, friend."

* * *

"Whoa."

Demoman and Heavy had discovered the end of the world. Literally. They had come to the gap that Engineer and Sniper had discovered before them, and were goggling at the drop.

"This not good," Heavy said flatly. "Where are friends?"

"I dinnae think they jus' fell o' th'face o' th'earth," Demoman said, staring into the abyss. "They might be dumb as rocks, but they cannae be that dumb."

"You underestimate friends," Heavy said darkly.

"That's… kind of cruel," Demoman said, and then to nobody's greater surprise than his own, started to laugh. "Ye ken, yer nae bad."

"Thank you," Heavy said, and clapped the Demoman on the back as gently as he could. "Let us search for our friends."

* * *

_Aidy, I'm bored._

You're the one that wanted to wait _,_  Aidan said dully.

_But I thought they'd be here by now. Let's set something on fire,_  Pyro said, and clicked his metaphysical fingers.

Flames burst forth from Aidan's hands.

_Whoa_!

Whoa!

The duo stared at each other, a tough feat if you're both sharing a head, and then at the hands. They seemed innocent enough.

_I did that! I did that!_  Pyro exclaimed in glee, and Aidan stared.

How? I mean… you're a… a split personality.,.

_Nope, haven't I always told you? I'm a GOD, Aidy boy!_  Pyro exclaimed with joy.  _Look!_  More flames shot out of Aidan's hands, and Aidan shook them frantically.  _Too hot? Too spicy? HOT HOT!_

Calm down! Aidan roared, and Pyro shrank back a little. Jesus Christ, this is my body here!

_One day I'll have my own body and I'll fix you,_  Pyro said spitefully, and flexed his fingers.  _And… I think that might be today…_

* * *

It's all going to be fine.

That was the mantra of Engineer, Scout and Sniper as they wandered through Midwich Elementary, searching for clues. Scout would not move unless he was propelled slightly, Engineer's hand on his shoulder, and so Sniper went first, kukri raised high in case anything else came at them.

"C'mon, hoss. S'all gonna be fine," Engineer murmured as they entered an old art room, an arm around the boy's shoulders, and Scout shut his head, teeth firmly sunk into his bottom lip. "It is! Jus' you wait."

"Jack," Scout whispered, and Engineer looked at him. "My name. It's Jack. I don't wanna die without a name, Engy."

"Now… Jack…" Engineer murmured, and tears began running down Scout's cheeks. "C'mon, kid. We need you."

"Engy."

Sniper had been rifling through a desk, and held up a piece of paper.

"It's a drawin'," he expounded, and threw it to the Texan, who looked at it. It was an old leaflet, to be more exact, with Lakeview Hotel written in curling serif font. "It's fire damaged – not surprisin' in this place – an' look who's been drawn in."

There, in childish scrawls almost scraped into the shiny paper, was a man in a red suit and gas mask.

"Ya think we should be there, Snipes?" Engineer said, and Sniper nodded.

"It's the best clue we got, don't'cha think?" the Aussie said, and there was general agreement.

* * *

_Aidy, let me make fire_.

No.

_You are the kind of person who would take toys off'f a child on Christmas Day. How does it feel to have no heart?_

Shush.

_Aidy…_

Aidan was about sick of it. He was going to get up and find his friends himself, and damn to the stupid voice in his head that thought it was a god. He stood up, and looked around himself.

He was still surrounded by trees on all sides...

_Those burn, you know_.

Shut up.

He stormed through the trees, and stopped short as an enormous, fire-ravaged building appeared out of the gloom.

_How did we miss that?_

I… don't know, Aidan murmured, and took a step onto the gravel drive.

The siren began to blare.

* * *

Sniper whirled around as the siren sounded again, and Scout clapped his hands over his ears, screaming hysterically as the lights began to fade.

"Boy!  _Boy_! Shut up!" Engineer scolded him, and Scout clung to him, tears running down his face as he attempted to run away, curl into a ball and prise safety from the engineer at the same time.

"They're gonna come back, they're gonna come  _back_ ," he moaned in distress.

"Engy… I…" Sniper's voice was uneven as well, and Engineer blinked as the room suddenly came back into focus.

The room was a lot bigger now, with rust creeping down the walls as they watched, and the windows were  _peeling_  as if they were skin to reveal bars beneath the glass. As the impossibility of the transformation continued, Sniper turned to Engineer and shook him.

"Still think this is BLU Team's doin', mate? Or that hellbitch of an Admin?" he asked hoarsely, and Engineer stared about himself, speechless. There was a gurgle, and Scout hit the floor, sobbing to himself.

One of the creatures that Sniper had killed waddled in, muttering to itself beneath its skin prison, and he stuck it through the stomach with the kukri, before booting it in the chest and slamming the classroom door shut.

"Oh, oh god," Scout whimpered, and then, slowly, from down the corridor, came the high-pitched skreel of metal on metal.

* * *

_Run, Aidy!_

Aidan pounded up the path, Pyro screaming in panic as they chased him. They were children, ash-skinned, flame-cored children, mouths open, wailing distraughtly as they reached out to him, their faces twisted, warped by the flames, and tears of flame licking their cheeks.

"Mph ghf, mph ghf," Aidan panted, and rammed into the doorway with his shoulder, tumbling inside the ruined building. He got the door shut just as the first Grey Child reached it, and as they piled up against the burnt wood, sobbing and wailing, he lay against it, breathlessly wheezing.

_Aidy, let me deal with this. Please, you can't._

What are they? Aidan whimpered, and Pyro sat next to him, and stroked his hair. Normally, Aidan hated that, hated the feel of the phantom hands on his hair through his mask somehow, but now it was a comfort as he lay on the rusted, bleeding metal.

_They're children. And you wouldn't hurt children, Aidy, even undead monsters like these. Don't kid me and tell me you would. So let me._

But… but… you can't… Aidan murmured.

But Pyro was gone, and seconds later, there was a  _whumph_  beyond the door.

* * *

"Where are we?"

Demoman didn't answer, instead peering around the corner. The world had gone absolutely batshit insane, and it just wasn't his responsibility to keep Heavy updated. He was a little concerned his sober self was somewhat cranky. He was also a little fine with that.

"Demoman!"

"S'a road," Demoman snapped. It had been a road, before the siren had blared out, but now it was a torn mess of concrete and tarmac, with blood and other fluids coating it at alarmingly regular intervals.

"Demoman, where are friends." Heavy sounded resolute, and when he decided to be resolute about anything, he tended to sit down and sulk until someone got him what he wanted. Demoman rolled his eyes, and wished he had a drink. When he drank, he didn't have to give a crap.

"I dunnae, Heav, so we haf'tae keep  _goin_ '," he said firmly, and Heavy nodded. There was a sign ahead, and Demoman read it to himself. "We're apparently headed f'Toluca Lake." Heavy did not reply, merely stepping forward, and they continued on in silence for some time.

"There is something follows us," Heavy announced after about three minutes. "I can hear its feetsteps. Demoman."

Demoman turned around, raising the grenade launcher and peering into the infernal gloom. There didn't seem to be anything, but Heavy seemed sure, and as Demoman stepped forward, there arose a faint chittering.

"Oh god," he muttered, and Heavy stepped back, eyes wide.

"Not them, Demo," he pleaded, and then… came the eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh,  _god_ ," Engineer and Sniper said in unison, backing away from the door, and Scout looked up at them.

"What  _is_  it?" he whispered, and Sniper shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to speak reassuringly. There was a muffled scream from outside, and blood began to seep in from under the door. "It  _really doesn't matter_."

"It's gonna get in, Snipes," Engineer said flatly. "That thing's the size a'Heavy, fer Christ's sakes." Scout's eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted – luckily for him, he was already lying down.

"Way to go, Engy. You're carryin' him," Sniper snapped. "C'mon, kid, get up!" He knelt down and shook the boy whilst Engineer watched the blood slowly oozing under the door. The screaming had stopped, but now there was a snapping and crackling that was even more unpleasant.

"It's gonna finish with that… whatever it is, and then it's comin' fer us, Snipes."

"Thought this was all a BLU game," Sniper muttered, and succeeded in getting Scout's eyes open. "C'mon, kid, we're gettin' out."

There was a knock on the door like a piledriver into wet concrete, and a dent appeared in the metal. Sniper stared at it, before turning around, shoving Scout into Engineer's arms, and running for the other door, slamming into it with his shoulder.

"Come  _on_!" he snarled.

* * *

Aidan lay there, listening to the noises outside, his mind reeling. It was impossible for Pyro to leave him, surely – he was him, he was merely another part of his brain, he could not exist outside of him.

If he opened the door now… what would he see?

He stood up, one hand on the doorknob, and pulled the double doors open.

* * *

"Shit!"

The wave of insects rolling towards them, chattering and squealing, was horrible. Demoman felt an arm around his waist, and then Heavy was running and he was being dragged, and the insects were coming for them and the next thing he knew they were in a park and Heavy was crouching behind a wall.

"Where are we?" he asked dazedly, and Heavy put a finger to his lips.

"We are in Rosewater Park," he murmured. "Now, shush, little man, or they find us."

"Ch-riiiiiii?"

Demoman looked up, and there above him sat one of the Green Fairies.

"Oh, no…" Heavy groaned.

* * *

"I am not going down there."

Soldier looked at the tunnel ahead of – or rather, below – him, and shook his head firmly. The entire floor of the room was gone, leaving a straight drop to whatever lay below.

"Fine. Let us go back to the cells full of invisible demons. I cherish this alone time with you, Soldier," Spy muttered snidely. Soldier glared at him.

"This is tactical reasoning, Spy!" he barked. "That could go down for miles! If you want to break your legs, that's your goddamned business!"

"But we have no other way out! You suggest we sit in 'ere and wait for… there isn't even anyzing to wait for,  _imbécile_!" Spy exploded. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and his shoulders relaxed. "This is our only way."

"You can go first," Soldier said flatly, and Spy sat on the edge and swung both legs into the tunnel. On an impulse, the American grabbed his arms. Spy jolted away in surprise, nearly falling down, and Soldier rolled his eyes. "I'll lower you down, Frenchie."

" _Merci_ ," Spy said, and Soldier lowered him slowly into the tunnel. "Let go,  _mon ami_ , I am practically touching the floor."

Soldier did so, and then grabbed Shovel and climbed in afterwards, Spy grabbing one of his feet to help him down. He glanced around. There was a lift straight ahead, and it looked like it was there only option.

"We're going in that?" he asked weakly, and Spy nodded just as half-heartedly.

"Unless you would want to climb back up," he murmured, and Soldier shook his head. "Then on we go." He stepped into the elevator, and Soldier stepped in after him. "I do not understand what is happening today, but I would prefer to just us get out alive."

"You sound like a real leader," Soldier said, trying to convince himself he meant it jokingly. Spy looked sideways at him, and smiled.

"Thank you, my friend."

The elevator clunked, and began to drop slowly, jerkily, rustily, as the red flakes of years tumbled from it. Spy loaded the Ambassador, which in all the terror he had forgotten he even owned, and began to check it over, Soldier pacing the square room like a caged lion.

"What d'ya thinks at the bottom'a this thing?" he asked curiously, and Spy shrugged.

"If it is a way out, I am happy," he assured the American. "It cannot be worse than where we are." He shook himself, the memory of those frightened animal eyes still fixed on him. "I do not know what is going on, but…"

There was a snap, and the lights went off. Then, the sickening sensation of the lift dropping.

* * *

The duo were running, and if Heavy hadn't had a good strong arm and an apparent superpower of negating momentum, they could easily have been drowning.

"Look," Demoman gasped, and Heavy stared into the water, emotionless.

"This is dream," he said flatly.

The waters of Toluca Lake were filled with fire and screaming faces, arms reaching up to the duo. There was the call of a boat horn out on the lake, melancholy and echoing; Demoman backed away, hands in front of him protectively.

"What the hell is wrong wi'this place?" he yelped, and suddenly, across the lake, a fire, brighter than the rest, sprung up.

"I bet Demo one bottle of finest Russian vodka that is Pyro," Heavy said meditatively.

"Ya seem mighty calm, Heav! There is a lake, and it is  _on fire_!" Demoman shouted, and Heavy nodded.

"Is dream. Will wake up soon. Will not owe Demoman vodka either."

* * *

Soldier opened his eyes, and coughed. His lungs felt as if a parakeet had lived in them for several years. A Commie parakeet. Who smoked. He had nothing against smoking, but not  _inside_  his lungs, dammit. It was supposed to get there after travelling through his mouth.

He looked around, and saw Spy sprawled out on the floor. He shook him gently, and when there was no reply, for one second, contemplated leaving him there. Then he remembered how the Spy had guided him through the maze, and had not expected him to defer, to accede to his superiority in any way. So he hauled him upwards, and looked around.

The room was tiny, with a door on the other side. He placed Spy next to it, and tried the handle experimentally. It opened easily enough, and he leant on the wall. Next to his hand was a faint patch, as if something had been stuck to the wall there. There was a scrap of red paper. He tried not to think about it too closely.

"Spy?" he murmured, and shook the Frenchman, who muttered to himself. "Spy! Wake up, gorramit!"

There was a faint movement, and Spy muttered something under his breath, head swinging. Soldier drew his hand back, and then thought about it and moderated slightly so that he merely lightly clipped the Spy's face.

"Spy!"

"No, Celine, ask Papa to read it," Spy muttered, and then his blue eyes shot open. " _Mon Dieu_!"

"Wakey-wakey," Soldier grinned, and was astonished to find that relief wasn't entirely gone from his emotional lexicon. "Who's Celine?"

"Someone," Spy muttered, and jumped up. "What happened?"

"I guess we hit the bottom and fell out," Soldier barked, motioning towards the elevator, which was a pile of scrap metal now. "There is a door, and we are going to have to go through it, Spy."

Spy stood up tremulously, and Soldier put an arm around the man without even thinking about it.

" _Merci_ ," Spy said gratefully, and Soldier looked around. Finally, he handed him Shovel. "What for,  _mon ami_?"

"Walking stick," Soldier said unsurely. He was sure Shovel was going to protest, but the Spy had proven himself enough, hadn't he? Why should… why should the man have to prove himself to a shovel, anyway?

He was shaken from this new, uncertain train of thought by Spy putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you. Now, let us go."

They walked through the door, Spy a little slow, and advanced down the dark corridor. It seemed to be semi-ordinary enough, wallpaper decrepit and floorboards rotting and curled up, but it was not until they got to a ladder from the depths of which appeared to echo the sound of water than the true feelings of unease set in.

"I'll go down first," Soldier volunteered, and Spy shook his head.

"Then you will be down there unarmed. Allow me, and then come down with Shovel," he suggested. "That way I will 'ave the Ambassador." He handed the Shovel to Soldier, and began to climb down unsteadily. Soldier resolved to see whether or not he had hit his head when they both got to the bottom, and when Spy tapped on the rungs to signal him down, followed at speed.

"Let me see your head," he demanded, and sure enough there was a bump that was bleeding ever so slightly. "You've hurt your head. You could have a concussion. We should've stayed up there."

"No, I…" Spy sighed, and there was a subtle change in the air, and, in the background, a faint sound of a siren.

"Hey!" Soldier growled. "I heard that before! It was… quiet… but that's a siren!"

"Air raid," Spy murmured. "But… here?"

"Figure it out later. Come on, let's get you out of here," Soldier ordered. Then, as a loud splashing, as of enormous footsteps through water, began to echo out, he nodded. "Right  _now_."

* * *

Great flakes of rust began to peel from the floor, and the doorknob began to squirm under Sniper's hand. He leapt back, and as the world began to turn back to normal, the siren blaring out from somewhere, he turned back to Engineer and Scout, who were watching with wide eyes.

" _What the fuck is wrong with this place_?" he screamed, eyes wild and teeth bared. " _Why the fuck are we here_?"

"Snipes, calm down," Scout mumbled, burying his face into Engineer's overalls. The terror in the… the  _child's_ – maybe not physically, but emotionally – eyes was enough to snap Sniper out of his temporary rage. He stepped forward, and watched as the last of the bars vanished from the windows, letting in a watery sunlight.

"We get to that hotel," he said firmly. "And we go together."


	12. Chapter 12

"Boat launch is down the road," Demoman reported, staring at the map. Heavy nodded, and leant against the sign.

"Demoman, what is happening?" he asked unhappily.

"I thought ye'd decided it was all a dream, laddie," Demoman said sharply. Heavy nodded, and then narrowed his eyes.

"Demoman is sober. Heavy not notice until now."

"Thanks fer payin' attention, Heav," Demoman murmured, and then tapped the map. "We need tae be headin' that way." He indicated down the road, and saw Heavy still staring at him. "Is it really tha' weird?"

" _Da_ ," Heavy nodded. "Demoman never sober." Demoman opened his mouth to argue, and realised he… couldn't.

"Let's just go, 'kay?" he muttered.

* * *

"What the 'ell is that thing?" Spy yelped as Soldier dragged him around a corner. Soldier didn't reply, instead grimly setting his jaw and grasping Spy's wrist. "What are you  _doing_?"

Soldier punched the button, and Spy cloaked.

"Soldier!"

Soldier was still silent as he ran around the corner.

There was a shout, quite loudly and clearly, of 'maggots!' There was a metallic clang, and a roar. There was a splash, another shout, less loud, and another clang. Then, a slight bubbling, choking noise. Then, another clang, a choking rasp, and another splash.

When the sound had died, Spy crept to the corner and peered round.

Soldier was floating in the water, his shovel floating in two halves next to him. There was no sign of the enormous man with the rusted pyramid helmet, and so Spy crept forward and dragged Solder back into the alcove where he had been hidden. Never before had he felt so useless.

* * *

"Pyro?" Aidan called miserably. The world outside was grey and empty, and there was no sign of his alter ego. He crept forward, staring at the ash stains on the gravel, and flinched as the door slammed shut behind him.

" _Aidan!_ "

The voice was like flames devouring a log. Aidan turned, and there was… a shape.

It was made of thousands of flickering fire tongues; all faint but definitely there, like the beginnings of a forest fire. Its face was a shifting smoke, with two coal-dark slits for eyes.

" _Look at me_!" Pyro gasped, and twirled. " _I'm people_!"

"Mm gmph," Aidan whispered, and reached out. Pyro felt warm, like placing a cold hand under a hot tap. "Hmm mm gpmmf."

" _I'm not strong. Yet_ ," Pyro murmured. " _I used to be an inferno, before I got trapped in you_." He sounded reproachful, and Aidan growled. " _I don't blame you, Aidy._ "

You sound like you do, Aidan thought, and Pyro cocked his head.

" _I can still hear you. That's… odd_ ," he said. " _Listen; there are people over the lake thinking about coming this way. I think, I can't be sure, but I'm really sure one of them is wearing an eyepatch_."

* * *

"Wake up," Spy whispered. The splashing had begun again, heading towards the duo, and he shook Soldier. "Damn it, Soldier,  _wake up_."

Soldier stirred, and there was a growl as the pyramid head creature approached.

"Wake up," Spy pleaded, and the monstrous shadow fell over him. He fell silent, too scared to speak, almost too scared to think. There was another hiss, and then… it passed. Spy exhaled, waiting until it had rounded the corner, and shook Soldier. This time, his eyes fell open, and he blinked slowly and stupidly.

"Where am I?" he mumbled.

"No time. It could come back," Spy hissed, glancing around. There was a ladder behind him. Surely he should have spotted that… "Up there. Can you walk?"

"Yeah…" Soldier whispered, stumbling to his feet. "Come on."

Between them, they made it up the ladder, and slumped to the ground at the top.

"By the way, Soldier… thank you. For saving me," Spy panted, wiping his forehead. "I am sorry about Shovel."

"Don't worry about it. It was… just a shovel," Soldier grinned. "An' same to you, soldier." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then stuck out his hand. "Jayne Doe. Wish I could say it wasn't my real name."

"Gabriel Gauthier. It is not my real name, but I cannot remember  _that_  anymore, so it's as close as I can get," Spy nodded, and shook his hand.

* * *

"Silent Hill Historical Society," Heavy read aloud, albeit slowly. "It will have information on town, yes?"

"We dinnae have time, Heav," Demoman sighed. "We have to get out… oi!" He stepped forward, and Heavy saw the flash of purple as the girl raced around the side of the building. "Her again!"

"Who is girl?" Heavy asked curiously, but by that time Demoman had given chase, and Heavy had no choice but to follow, lumbering behind him. "Demoman!"

Demoman raced around the side of the building, but the girl had vanished, and there was a sign reading 'Wait Here Fo-'. The rest was worn away with time and decay, but as Demoman watched it swung eerily in the absence of wind.

"Wait, here," Heavy read slowly. "Demoman, is this for us?"

"Ye ken, I think so," Demoman answered uneasily, and sat down on the crates. "I think so."

* * *

"What is this?"

The Spy-Soldier duo had desperately taken the first room they saw; it was filthy, with a bed made from a hospital gurney shoved in one corner and several mutilated mannequins. One was wearing a balaclava and appeared to have blood dripping from the eyes and head. Spy avoided looking at it.

"I think this is that thing's… bedroom…" the Frenchman said, looking disgusted. There was a knife as tall as him stuck into a wall. He did not deign to touch it.

" _Look_  at this stuff," Soldier mumbled. He was leafing through a stack of damp, mildewed red journals. "They're all written by some guy called James. A time, a place, and a name. That's it." He began to leaf through the pages. "Gabriel, this man wrote 'saved' on every page in what appears to be his own blood. Or someone else's blood."

Spy did not reply, instead picking up the odd bottles scattered around the room.

"Health drinks…" he read aloud. "Well, these look disgusting."

"'It's like these books can see into my mind.' This guy was insane!" Soldier snorted, and then winced when he realised the hypocrisy in his words. "Well, I would be certified to know."

"There is a picture of someone called 'Heather' in this desk. Please tell me that thing does not have a girlfriend," Spy murmured. The picture was of a teenager, with dirty-blonde hair and a sallow complexion, looking, saturnine, into the camera with all the grace of those who know everything but who just got grounded for trying to explain.

"I think we should leave before he gets back, Gabriel," Soldier muttered, and grabbed the Spy's arm. "Let's go."

"I think that would be wise," Spy nodded, and they left the room, but not before Spy could take one last look at the mannequin.

It wasn't wearing the balaclava any more.

* * *

"It's just down the road," Engineer encouraged Scout, who was looking at the wide open space in horror. "C'mon, kid, you can do it."

"Go down there? It's too open, Engy," Scout mumbled, and Sniper shook his head.

"You could run that in three seconds," he said hearteningly. Scout looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, and shook his head. "C'mon, mate."

"Running got me into this mess," Scout murmured. "Too much noise, man."

"Well, we're with you now. Nobody is here alone," Sniper said, and the words sounded odd in his mouth. He was so used to the words 'you never have to rely on others if you never miss'. Well, he had sure missed something, because now, he was relying on Engineer and Scout, and they on him.

"Okay," Scout whispered, sounding a little cheered. They began to wander down the road, and as they did so, Scout began to walk a little faster every step, until finally he let go of Engineer and Sniper's arms and began to walk alone.

"I feel… better now I'm outta there," he nodded. "God, that… that school…"

"I hated school too," Sniper acknowledged. "Too much book smarts. No recognition fer bein' able to do anythin' other than pass exams." Scout nodded enthusiastically.

"Right! Didn't matter to no-one I could run fastest on the track team," he sighed. "Just that I kept getting' inta fights." Sniper smiled lopsidedly, showing one sharp canine.

"I just hated bein' kept inside all day. There was a  _whole_  Outback waitin' t'be explored, and they wanted me to sit inside and talk about cell structure an' Shakespeare?" he snorted, and Scout beamed, punching him lightly on the arm.

"How comes ya never told me we had somethin' in  _common_ , Snipes?" he grinned, and Sniper shrugged.

"Guess I was too busy bein' alone and you were too busy yappin'," he said teasingly, but the words hung in the air as if they were more important than they appeared. "How about you, Engy?"

"I loved it, but I was never interested in anythin' outside of schoolin'," the Texan offered. "You guys had all that stuff on the outside, well, I'd sit inside after school in the workshops buildin' an' makin' machines an' waitin fer my pa to pick me up so I could go home an' do the same there." He looked faintly worried now. "Never really had any friends to do anythin' with."

"Christ, we're such a bunch of screw-ups," Scout said, and then looked pensive. "Hey, you don't think that's why we're all here, do ya? None'a the REDs, well, we're not really normal, yeah?"

* * *

"Well, this keeps getting more and more  _normal_ ," Soldier growled.

Spy and Soldier were stood in a graveyard. This would have been infinitely more ordinary had they been above ground. But apparently the inhabitants of Silent Hill had seen fit to bury nine members of their dead below a prison block/labyrinth. Solder was going to have stern words with the town planner if and when they ever got out.

"Gabriel Gauthier," Spy read aloud, and Soldier's mouth dropped open. "Well, that is not morbid at all." He sounded flustered. "Jayne Doe… you. There is one for each of us." He read them aloud. "Tavish DeGroot, Demoman. Dieter Muller, Medic, I would guess. Alexi Nabokov… that would be 'eavy. Aidan Davis, which is definitely the Pyro. Jackson Mundy… Sniper, at best guess. Jack Dash is presumably the Scout… how fitting. Dell Conagher is our Engineer. Soldier, these are  _our_  graves."

"You know everyone's name?" Soldier asked, suspiciously, and Spy shrugged.

"I know some. I would be a terrible spy if I didn't," he reasoned coolly. "But they… they are all filled in,  _mon ami_. Except ours." He leant over his own grave, and stared into the hole. "And, I am getting the sinking feeling – no pun intended – that we are going to 'ave to jump into these."

"I am sick of jumping down holes," Soldier growled, and Spy nodded. "Way too similar to the dugouts."

"We cannot wait here. That monster will be back, and then…" Spy shuddered, and turned to the hole. "See you on the other side, as I believe they say…" And he jumped.

"Damn  _French_ ," Soldier muttered, but there was no venom in it, and he jumped into his own grave.


	13. Chapter 13

Demoman and Heavy had never been more surprised as when the door next to them fell open and Spy and Soldier came tumbling out, looking bruised and battered.

" _Bon jour_ ," Spy said, unruffled. He picked himself up, and grasped the Soldier's hand to pull him up to standing as well. Demoman and Heavy watched in awe as Soldier allowed himself to be helped, and in even more awe as the man clapped the spy on the back and grinned at him.

"Good man!" he hollered, and Spy grinned back.

"Well, you two… I assume you have had an assortment of weird and horrific things 'appening to you?" he said, and Demoman and Heavy nodded in shock.

"What did ye  _do_  tae him?" Demoman asked, motioning to Soldier as the man ruffled the top of Spy's balaclava playfully and then winced at the friction burn from the wool.

"We've been on a personal journey. And we saved each other's lives. Perhaps if we walk and talk?" Spy offered, and Demoman motioned up the road. "Where are we?"

"We're in a town called Silent Hill," Demoman explained. "We reckon Pyro's at the hotel 'cross the lake so we're gonnae go get a boat."

* * *

"We are nearly there. We are nearly there."

Sniper's legs ached. This place was clearly built by the only Romans in America, with long, straight roads that seemed to go on forever. Even Scout with his newfound lease of life was beginning to flag.

"We are nearly there," Scout continued to grunt. "We are nearly there."

"Boy, shush," Engineer groaned, and Scout did. "Thank you."

"No problem," Scout said quietly.

"There it… er… is…" Sniper murmured. The hotel was like a ruinous mansion close up, a charred and burnt shell that nevertheless held a certain ominous character to it. And standing outside the front door was Pyro and-

"What is that?"

" _Ah. So here are your teammates._ " Pyro said, backing away. " _I did not realise they could see me in this form also_."

"Monster," Scout squeaked, and dived behind Sniper, who raised his kukri high above his head. "Monster, Snipes, monster."

"Mpph!" Aidan yelped, diving in front of Pyro. "Mph  _nhp_  nh mnnnhnn!"

"What?" Sniper yelled incredulously.

"The pyro said that 'he is not a monster'," Spy said calmly from behind Sniper, who dropped the kukri and nearly fainted. " _Bon jour_ , Scout, Sniper, Engineer, Pyro."

"Where did  _you_  come from?" Scout asked, backing away from the man who had appeared inches away from him. Spy motioned towards the lake.

"Soldier, Heavy and Demoman are coming as we speak. There was an issue getting Heavy out of the boat." He grimaced a little. "Well, no, that was not an issue. The issue was getting him out of the lake."

"Did the monster get him?" a voice asked, and everyone turned.

Aidan had removed his mask.

He looked at them all nervously from dark brown eyes that were almost black, and ran a hand through the fiery red hair that covered his head.

"Did it?" he asked fretfully.

His skin was covered in shiny pink burns and scars that marred his young face. The others continued to stare until he lifted his mask to put it back on, a hurt expression on his face.

"No!" Sniper said hurriedly. "We just… we just…"

"You look so  _normal_ ," Scout said tactfully, cutting across the older man. "We weren't, ya know, expectin' that." Aidan smiled, a little unevenly as his scars covered one side of his mouth, and handed the gas mask to Pyro, which was the cue for everyone to stare at the flaming demon again.

"This is… this is Pyro," Aidan said awkwardly. "I'm Aidan, and he's Pyro, so there we go."

" _You're all so much smaller in real life_ ," Pyro said, by way of greeting. Nobody said anything. Everyone kept staring.

"He's my… my split personality," Aidan said awkwardly. "I think, because this place is… weird, he's managed to gain a foothold…"

" _I'm not a split personality, Aidy_."

"Stop saying that," Aidan said sharply. There was silence, and then Scout shrugged, beaming widely at the floating monster. A little too widely.

"What the hell? This isn't any weirder than the rest of the day."

"What do we do know?" Sniper asked, deliberately turning slightly away from the flaming monster. "I mean, we..."

"Doktor," Heavy rumbled firmly. "He is only one left."

Nobody could think up a better plan than this, although 'find a working car and get the hell out of dodge' nearly won. And so the nine - Pyro awkwardly included - set off to find the last of their number, the Medic.

* * *

Medic was not having a good day. No, he was not having a good day at all.

He had been locked in a hospital room for God-alone-knew how long. He was sat in the darkness, deciding that saving the flashlight battery was a priority. There had been scuffles, and once or twice he swore he could hear a girl laughing outside, and a siren that wailed. He was, in short, utterly terrified.

"Dieter."

He jumped, and there was a faint knock on the door.

"Dieter."

"… _hello_?" he whispered, and there was a giggle.

"You are the worst," the voice whispered. "You are a doctor, a saver of lives." Something slid under the door. "And yet you kill when you could cure."

Medic picked up the paper that had been pushed into the room.

_Look up_.

He did.

* * *

"So, where will the Doc be?" Scout asked, and Heavy motioned to a tourist map that was peeling, faded and worn, from the wall next to them.

"Brookhaven Hospital," he rumbled. "Is where Doctor most suits."

"Heav, there's two hospitals," Demoman said, looking at the map. "Alchemical…"

"Alchemilla," Sniper corrected him, leaning over his shoulder. "But that's all the way back across the lake, mate. Most likely we've been brought here."

"I think Doctor is in Brookhaven," Heavy said in a certain tone, and that was all there was to it. "I am going to Brookhaven no matter what others do. I am bigger than you, so I will go alone."

"Do'y'really think that matters in this place?" Demoman asked sharply, turning around. "Ye were almost drowning in things nae bigger'n yer kneecap when I found you!" Heavy glared at him. "Ye  _rely_  on one o' us to fight!"

"What?" Heavy asked, looking confused.

" _Medic_ , ye tool!" Demoman shouted. "An' do'y'really think he's  _bigger_ 'n you? No! But without him, ye'd be  _dead_!" The final word rang from the other buildings as he turned away, pulling a punch to the larger man's chest by inches, and Heavy actually had the decency to blush.

"And you," the Russian muttered, and Demoman spun back around. "Demoman pulled Heavy through crate. Saved Heavy's life." He stuck out an enormous hand, and Demoman took it nervously.

"Okay. So… we split up," Spy suggested. "All those who believe Heavy is in Alchemilla, say 'aye'." Nobody's hand went up. "This is not how splitting up works."

"I vote Soldier to lead one team," Sniper said, and there was silence from the American's corner. "Solly?"

"No."

Everyone turned to look at him, and he stood there, looking embarrassed.

"I can't lead. Not after… I mean… I don't have Shovel. I don't…" he spluttered, and hung his head. "I'm a terrible leader, men. I vote… I vote Spy." Spy looked surprised, and walked over, putting an arm around the man's shoulders.

"Soldier, this is not an opportunity to surrender," he said gently. "You can learn from this, my friend, but you cannot just give up." Soldier murmured something the others could not hear, and Spy whispered back. Then Soldier straightened up, eyes sparkling, jaw set.

"Men! I will head one team. Sniper will head the other," he said decisively. "I will allow you to choose teams, but it must be equal."

" _Excuse me_ ," Pyro said politely from where he was hovering. " _When you say even numbers, it's almost as if I'm not_ _ **here**_." Soldier looked at him awkwardly, and pointed at Aidan.

"I guess you're going with him? Unless you'd like to join the other team," he said, as politely as was humanly possible. Pyro tilted his head.

" _I think I might just go for a wander around Silent Hill_ ," he mused. " _I will report back if I find anything odd_." And then he was gone, leaving only a faint scorch mark on the wall.

"And that's been living in your head?" Sniper asked Aidan in a low voice, who nodded back.

"It's been a fun few years," he murmured.

"So we all split up?" Heavy rumbled, and Demoman nodded.

"Oh, an', by the way, Heav... it's called a  _grate_  tha' I pulled ye through."


	14. Chapter 14

Medic opened his eyes, and immediately rolled over, trying to avoid the hands of the monster that had seized him. It did not work, as that had already happened, and he glanced around him.

"This is a puzzle for you, Dieter," the little girl behind him said solemnly, and he spun around, adopting a rather clumsy karate stance. Then he stood up straight, and walked closer, looking confused. "Let us see how you last."

"Last?" he murmured, and then he heard the noise from behind him. He turned, and there, tied to the wall, were two people.

His mother and father.

His mother's head lolled, the top of her head deflated like a football with bandages wrapped clumsily around it. His father was arched in what must have been his death throes, in his doctor's uniform, a bloody gash clumsily stitched where his heart had presumably been.

"You must choose," the girl smiled, and took his hand, walking him towards the corpses. Medic tilted his head, and mused.

"Based on vat criteria?"

Apparently this was not the correct question, as the girl's eyes narrowed.

"They are your parents, Dieter. But to you, they are simply corpses," she sighed. "Is this your choice?" At this, the two corpses opened their eyes, and his mother smiled at him. This was a little much, even for the Medic, and he leapt back, eyes wide.

" _Dieter, my son_ ," she whispered in German. " _You always thought I had no brain. I was the heart of the family, smiling, caring, but I had no intelligence. You never listened to me_."

" _And I had no heart_ ," his father intoned, staring at him. " _You would never listen to me either, because I was so objective and unfeeling. When I took your violin away, that was the last straw, wasn't it? We never talked again. Well, now, you are right. You are right about the both of us._ "

And then they began to crawl towards him, using the wall as simply a gravitationally-interesting floor.

Dieter looked around in a blind panic. The girl had gone. There were no weapons, except an iron bar in the corner. He picked it up, and as he raised it, his mother let out a choked sob.

The noise struck him somewhere he wasn't even sure he had any more, and he stumbled backwards, arms limp, bar hitting the floor. That sound had been the same sound she had made in the hospital, the day she died, the day he swore he would become a doctor to save others, to do… to do what his father had not.

" _Son_ …" his father whispered, and Dieter became aware that tears were flooding down his cheeks. " _Well done_." His mother fell to the floor, fading away into insubstantiality. His father reared above him, claws ripping from his hands, and Dieter dived for the bar again. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

"What is that."

"I think, kid, it's a nurse."

"It's got its damn head on the wrong way. Nice tits though."

"Scout, you need some help, mate."

Sniper stepped back from the hospital window, and looked at the boy, who looked at his feet, embarrassed.

"I was just trynna make this more  _normal_ ," he muttered. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Sniper sighed, and cuffed him on the arm. "Team! We ready to head inta Brookhaven?"

Heavy, who was once again absolutely drenched – the boat was still not kind to him – and Pyro – who had undergone a panic attack whilst crossing the lake – looked at him wearily.

"Okay, guess that's a 'no'," Sniper said, more quietly. "Remember, Medic is in there… according to Heavy…" Heavy nodded sagely. "…so we gotta be quick! No knowin' how many of them bastards are in there! But we can kick their arse!"

"Alright, Dad," Scout said teasingly, but he said it in an odd, sort-of sweet way. Sniper grinned at him, and then booted the doors open.

Fifteen nurses looked back.

"If we're going to die, we might at least die in a fun way," Pyro murmured to Heavy, who shook his hand.

"I am Alexi. Dying with no name is dishonour," he said quietly. "Dying with friends is big honour. Do not want to mix the two up,  _nyet_?" They shared a laugh, and then joined Sniper and Scout, who were already ploughing their way steadily through the crowds of nurses.

* * *

"Men!" Spy grinned, and Soldier rolled his eyes. "Gosh, this  _is_  addictive,  _oui_?"

"Soldiers, we go in, we kill these things, we save that weird little girl if necessary, we get out," Soldier barked, cutting across him. "And before the frog tells you, my name  _is_  Jayne." Spy pouted.

"Mine's… Dell. If that helps," Engineer volunteered. This left Demoman standing uncomfortably alone, until finally he opened his mouth.

"Nobody takes the mick outta Tavish, ya ken?" he said.

"Apparently, this used to be a hospital for victims of the plague," Spy said, looking through a window. "I wonder if there are any disgusting germs about…"

"You spent the day wading through sewers full of goddamn knows what crap, fighting monsters made of rotting flesh, and you're worried because of a disease that died out before I was fighting Commies?" Soldier asked incredulously. Spy nodded, looking disgusted. "You crazy frog.  _Men! Move- out!_ "

"Yahoo!" Engineer cheered, and they charged for the door.

* * *

"Wanna go home wanna go home wanna go home wanna go home."

Scout was clinging onto Sniper, who was leading the way into the darkness. It seemed to get gloomier as they walked, streaks of red rust reaching like alien hands getting thicker and thicker on the walls. The nurses had thinned out, drawn to the commotion – or scared of the oppressive darkness.

"It's okay, kid. We're gonna get Medic, then we're gonna get outta here an' forget this whole damn thing," Sniper muttered. Scout nodded, and buried his head in Sniper's arm.

"Can Aidan not light way?" Heavy asked quietly, and Pyro shook his head.

"Not any more. Any power of fire I might have had has vanished with  _him_ ," he whispered. "And I lost my flamethrower in the lake."

"Did nobody grab a torch?" Scout asked quietly, and the room lit up. "Gah!"

"What is it?" Pyro yelped, and Sniper blinked into the sudden light.

"It's an elevator."

It was. The light began to fade, or maybe their eyes just adjusted, and they saw the rickety dilapidated lift, doors half open as if awaiting their feeble attempts to get inside. It was almost eerily mouth-like, with the cage half down like teeth bared to snap.

"Do we… do we have to?" Scout whispered, and Sniper nodded.

"Heavy has bad feeling about this," the Russian murmured.

* * *

"Bloody 'ell!"

Demoman nearly fell over the girl before noticing her. She glanced up at him, and then scuttled away, eyes wide and fearful. He knelt down, stretching his hands out to her, and she stared at him, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Come 'ere, girlie. We'll get y'outa here."

"Not alone," she whispered, and then flames erupted from every inch of skin. Demoman leapt back, yelping in shock and Soldier rounded the corner, wielding a crowbar he had liberated from a cupboard.

"Shit!" he yelped, and as the flames died down, leaving no trace of the girl, Demoman knelt down, fingernails scratching against the stones gently. "Demo! You alright?"

"What is she," the Scot mumbled, and looked up at Soldier, who knelt down next to him. His fingers were gently picking at the edge of a trapdoor in the floor. "Who is she."

* * *

"Why can't this place have a frickin' pettin' zoo or somethin'," Scout whimpered, clutching onto Sniper as the lift slowly rumbled along. "An' where are we goin'? Up or down? Can't tell any more."

"We're going up," Pyro murmured, and Heavy shook his head.

"Definitely down."

"The choice is yours," a fifth voice said from the back of the lift, and they all spun around.

" _Why are we here_ ," Scout whispered, and let go of Sniper to embrace himself. Then he bent down, and picked up a hitherto unnoticed few scraps of paper from the floor. "Brookhaven… Mental Institution? Medical records of a Cheryl Mason, and a… a… something Gillespie."

"Something? Nice first name," Pyro said, taking the paper from him delicately. As he did so, the lift ground to a halt, and he shoved it in his pocket, facing the door. It opened… to reveal a blank wall.

"Bugger. We're stuck between floors," Sniper groaned, and Pyro dragged him backwards. "Oh."

A message was written on the wall in what was apparently blood, barely intelligible in the gloom.

**Up oR DoWN tHe CHoIce is YouRS bUt DiETER Is WhERe hE BElonGs**

"Up and down. Heaven or Hell. This place is getting easy to read," Pyro murmured. "I guess this place will have taken him down to Hell since that's where it thinks we belong." He reached out to hit the lift button, and Heavy seized his wrist.

"Pyro not think of the little things," he rumbled, and motioned to the writing. "Everything have double meaning."

"He's right. The doc's a  _doc_ ," Scout said, hopping from one foot to the other nervously. "I mean… won't he be  _upstairs_? Ya know, where the patients'd be?"

"Logic'd dictate," Sniper said neutrally, looking between the writing and his teammates. "But he's not a  _psych_  doctor. He thinks psychiatry's a buncha crap, mate."

"So he'd be a patient," Pyro expounded. "So… where are the cells?"

"Depends on where we are," Sniper shrugged. Scout jumped up, did that strange thing where he gained leverage on thin air to jump again, and grasped onto the intricate ironwork.

"Dial thingy says we're on floor 1 and a half," he reported, face practically pressed against the glass. "Nobody press anythin' til I let go."

"So, what are we deciding, up or down?"

"Up," Heavy said with deliberation.

"Down," Pyro said flatly.

"Up," Scout said, hitting the floor and wincing. "Damn, ow."

Sniper opened his mouth, and made his decision.


	15. Chapter 15

"Why would there be a trapdoor into the  _basement_?" Spy asked, peering curiously into the hatch. Soldier shrugged, and stuck his head down into the gap. "'ang on!"

"S'definitely a trapdoor, men," Soldier confirmed, voice muffled. "S'all dark too."

" _It's not a trapdoor_."

Everyone looked up, including Soldier, who smacked his head on the edge of the trapdoor. Pyro stood there, looking awkward.

" _It's a metaphor. For a descent into darkness_ ," he announced, and Spy tilted his head. " _Look, I'm a supernatural creature. I know what I'm talking about_."

"So, where does it lead?" Demoman asked, and Pyro shook his head.

" _Not sure. Guys, I've been looking around, and… this place has got a fucked up history. Sacrifices, weird cults… guys, I think we should just get out._ " He looked twitchy, and as Soldier shook his head and then leant into the hole again, growled. " _Guys_!"

"We haf'tae find Medic. He's our friend," Demoman explained, and Pyro rolled his coal-black eyes. The Scot growled. "How would'ye feel if it were Aidan?"

" _I…_!" Pyro began, and his mouth fell open as he realised there was no acceptable answer that was not too emotionally close to his metaphorical heart. " _I'm a deity, I don't have to put up with this from stupid mortals anyway._ " He folded his arms sulkily.

"See? So we're goin' down there," Engineer chipped in. "Because he might be…"

" _It's an air vent_.  _It goes to exactly nowhere – at least, nowhere you can fit_ ," Pyro said loftily, eyeing Soldier's broad shoulders.

"Goddamn it. Why does it have a trap door on it then?" Soldier snapped, and Pyro laughed.

" _Because you haven't even noticed. The Dark in here is eternal. This isn't the real world. This is a nightmare, and the vent has changed accordingly. Symbolic of… I don't know. Not being able to get any clean air, I guess? Suffocation – by proxy?_ " He sighed. " _Of course, it_ _ **is**_ _now a cursed air vent. So… there could be anything in it._ "

This was apparently the cue for something to groan from  _just_  inside the vent, and Soldier leapt up, kicking the door shut.

" _I do suggest you take the elevator_ ," Pyro proposed, a little smugly.

* * *

As the elevator opened, Sniper stepped out, eyes flicking from side to side. Creeping along the corridor, he tried to breathe as quietly as possible. A sense of suspense had been building, and as he reached the corner, the others following, he-

"Can you hear anything?" Scout asked loudly, and he leapt out of his skin, dropping his kukri and nearly impaling himself through the foot.

"Shut yer  _mouth_!" he snapped, snatching the blade up from the floor, and Scout shrank away. He immediately regretted it.

"Doktor is close," Heavy said slowly, breaking the tension. "Can tell."

They turned the corner, and there was a light, faint and tinted red, bleeding from a doorway.

"There."

* * *

Dieter swung at the rotting monster, which roared at him before snapping at him with jaws freakishly extended. He rolled under it, feeling his muscles complain, and swung around, smacking it in the back of the head.

"Medic!"

He turned, mouth dropping open, to see Sniper, Scout, Heavy and Pyro on the other side of a mesh wall. This was enough to distract even the most focused of men, and his arms went limp as he stared in shock.

" _H-hilfen Sie mir_!" he finally squeaked, and then reality reasserted itself in the form of a claw raking itself across his back; he fell to his knees, agonizing pain exploding along his shoulders. "Ah!"

"Must save Doktor!" Heavy roared, and pounded his hands against the mesh wall. "Gah…!" He cringed back. "Is… sharp."

"There's a gap at the top," Sniper noted, and leapt up. "Ow!" He could not quite reach it, and the mesh was so thin it cut into his fingers. He simply weighed too much. "How…?"

 _Clang_.

Scout had ripped a pipe from the wall. He wielded it, nodded, pushed Sniper aside, leapt, leapt again, feet pushing off of the air, and dived through the gap, movements sinuous as a snake.

"Demoman was right," Heavy murmured. "It  _is_  little ones who save day."

"Yeah, let's do this, Doc!" Scout snarled, smashing the monster in the face with a bat, and pulling Medic up. "This time, we're gonna help you." The monster roared, and dived for him. " _Whoawhoawhoa_!" He hit it again, and tumbled out of the way. "Maybe if we help each other…?"

Medic nodded, and rolled up a sleeve, punching the monster as it leapt for Scout again. Scout cheered, and then screamed as part of the monster's rotten face simply slid off like cooked chicken off the bone.

* * *

"So, what's down here?"

" _Well, let me tell you what I found_ ," Pyro said uncomfortably. Five in a lift had left them agonizingly crushed, and as the elevator bounced and jerked, tempers were getting frayed. " _A long time ago, a little girl was burnt alive in a cult ritual to bring about… to bring about the birth of God_." There was silence, and an image of the running purple-dressed girl came uncomfortably to everyone's minds. " _And… then the town went wrong. I don't know why, but I'd presume the little girl had psychic… something or other. She's certainly a catalyst for it, if not the cause of it all. It's been pulled into another pocket of reality, and every so often, people – often with serious mental issues – vanish here. Most never come back_."

"-serious mental issues?" Spy interrupted, and shook his head. "We do not 'ave serious mental issues, my fiery friend."

" _Please. You're looking at someone who's spent the last few years in one of the group's minds._ " Pyro muttered. " _You try that without realising you guys are seriously messed up_." Spy looked chagrined, and shut up.

"So, what in hell's  _down_  there?" Engineer asked pointedly.

" _The little girl's hospital room… I think. But you're going to have to fight your way through the Dark,_ " Pyro said. " _I really advise just getting out._ " He looked more and more uncomfortable as the elevator dropped further and further.

"No. We need to find Medic."

" _For God's sake, he's in Brookhaven anyway,_ " Pyro snapped. " _This is a hospital for those sick in the flesh. Brookhaven is a hospital for those sick in the mind_." Everyone looked at him. " _Sorry, sometimes it's too easy to sound like a cheesy videogame when you're a minor deity_." He shrank into the corner in embarrassment.

"So, we find the little girl, we explain to her that we're not mentally backwards, we get our asses home. Men?" Soldier said calmly, and everyone nodded, Demoman accidentally head-butting Pyro, apologising quietly. At that moment, the elevator stopped. "Mo-ove  _out_."

* * *

"Don't just stare,  _do somethin_ '!"

Sniper was shouting at Heavy, who was staring at the battle in tense concern, ringing his hands. His face was one of a hedgehog watching the headlights approach and not quite knowing whether he was under a wheel or if the car would pass over him.

"Heavy cannot walk through wire fence!" the large man snapped. "Aidan! You fix this?"

"I'll burn them both to pieces," Pyro shook his head, biting his lip. "I don't know how to get in."

"Fuck this," Sniper decided firmly, and began to hack at the fence with his kukri. The flimsy razor-wire began to give way under his assault, and eventually he had scythed a hole into it that he could fit through. Pyro followed, and Heavy batted the rest of the wire curls out of the way.

The monster was clearly outnumbered, and yet it never let up in its furious assault on the Medic, even as it was attacked by five men. It took a boot to the head by the good doctor to finally cause it to curl up and die, and then Heavy had to catch Medic as he collapsed, weeping.

Through the choking sobs, they discerned part of his story, and as Sniper rubbed his back in the manner of a father with a child, Scout looked at the others.

"We get the others, an' we get out. Now."

* * *

There was silence. Or, more accurately, they wished there was silence.

Pyro, Demoman, Engineer, Soldier and Spy all stood looking down the corridor. All  _were_  silent, but the air was full of soft gasps and snarls and shuffles and growls and hideous bone-rending clicks and crunches. These emanated from the pack of nurses that were slowly shuffling towards them. The elevator had decided to place them in the rusty, blood-soaked cellar of the hospital, and then break down with no apparent cause. Engineer had not been able to fix it. This irked him, but it did not surprise him. Nothing did, any more.

" _They're attracted to my light_ ," Pyro said quietly. " _I should leave._ "

"Why can you not just torch them all?" Spy asked, and Pyro shook his head.

" _Because I can't. Not down here. This is… her domain,_ " he murmured. " _I have no power down here. I'll go and see if I can get help_."

"That is convenient," Spy snarked, and Pyro narrowed his eyes.

" _If I could help, I would. But this is for you to face. My advice is to sneak past. You're good at that… aren't you?_ " The sarcasm in the last two words was almost palpable; and with that, he had winked out of existence, leaving the four in near blackness. The noises up ahead stopped.

"Reckon we can get through them?" Engineer whispered, and there was a flurry of movement. The four men retreated to a safe distance, and held a hurried conference.

"We cannae fight 'em. There's too many," Demoman hissed. Sobriety was beginning to grate on his nerves somewhat, and he just wanted to get home for a strong drink.

"I'm sure there's another way 'round," Engineer whispered. "Let's have a look 'round, folks." Soldier shook his head.

"We're being led. We all have been, since we came here," he growled, which was as close as he could get to a whisper. "Don't ya see? It's all a test."

"I 'ave an idea," Spy whispered.

A minute later, after they had prised Soldier's protective hands from around his new best friend's ankle, Spy reiterated the plan. Another minute later, after they had stopped Soldier trying to build a barricade without them noticing – a skill often, mistakenly, assumed not to exist – they outlined the plan once more, ensuring that there was no way it could go wrong.

"I will not let you kill yourself, soldier!" Soldier barked, and there was a flurry of movement. "This is insane!" he shouted quietly, another skill that most assume not to exist, and that baffled most who heard it.

"I will be perfectly safe," Spy hissed. "I will disappear, lead them away, and come back 'ere when they are a safe distance away. It is the only way. If you three stay quiet as I lead them towards the elevator…"

"But- but-" Soldier was clearly desperate to keep his friend from danger. "But then what about the way back?"

"Okay then, I will have to try to lock them in a spare room," Spy said. "Soldier, you risked your life to save me."

"Love is in the air," Engineer whispered tunefully, and was given a warning slap to the back of the head by Demoman. "A-!"

"Well, 'ere I go," Spy said casually, and vanished.


	16. Chapter 16

Spy was probably going to die.

He could feel it as he shouted, attracting the attention of the pack of nurses to him. He could feel it as he ran down the corridors, sliding on slimy patches of rust, and he could feel it in his heartbeat. Something was going to go wrong. He would fall, and he would not be able to contain his pain, and they would zero in on his cries and eat him alive. It was practically certain. This provided excellent incentive for him to keep running. Anyone who thought positive was depriving themselves of much needed incentive in the form of the price of failure.

He rebounded from a wall, and turned to check they were still following. They had built up some kind of ungodly momentum, where they seemed to be barely moving yet had almost reached him as he stopped. He dare not turn his back on them, but he could not run backwards. There was a terrifying feeling that they knew where he was, as had the monsters in the cells. He wasn't invisible to them. But he could hope.

Thud, thud, thud. He could no longer tell which was his heartbeat, and which was his footsteps, smart Cubans clicking against the floor. His breath was beginning to burn in his chest. So this was what it was like for the Sniper.

He could hear them now. How could they be getting closer? He was running five times faster than they were moving, and yet… and yet…

He was definitely flagging now. His breath burnt in his chest. His feet ached. His muscles were on fire.

There was a screech, and the first of many scalpels buried itself in his shoulder.

* * *

"Ya know, few hours ago, I'd-a said that was real gay," Scout commented loudly. He seemed to be trying to distract everyone from the horrors around them by being his normal, abusive self. His heart was clearly not in it – something had knocked out that part of him, possibly for good. "But ya know? Now it's kinda cute." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Not… er, I, er, don't mean bein' gay. Just… ya bein' friends, ya know?"

Medic looked up at him from red-rimmed eyes, and tightened his hold on Heavy's hand. The Russian squeezed it gently, and looked at Scout, eyes narrowed.

"Hey, the more time ya spend, you know, ya spend bein' annoyed at, er, me, the more time ya not concentratin' on the, er, creepy décor. Looks like how the med bay used to look, ey, Doc?" Scout chattered again, and when there was, again, silence, he took the hint and closed his mouth.

"Good lad," Sniper said quietly, and Scout edged his way to next to him. He did not looked as if he would dare try to take the Australian's hand, not in a million years, but his proximity clearly calmed him. "We're nearly out. We go to Brookhaven, we…"

" _Guys_!"

Pyro came whirling out of the air, and settled next to Aidan, who jumped out of his skin.

" _Guys, guys, you have to come quick, the others are in a shit-ton of trouble_ ," he babbled. " _Monsters. Nurses everywhere. And it's really damn dark and I think Spy had a stupid plan but I can't read his thoughts properly and…_ "

"Slow," Sniper commanded, and Pyro gave a more coherent version of events, that ended as he zoomed off to get help, hearing only an echo of the Frenchman's thoughts.

" _And I think Spy's about to do something stupid_ ," he finished, panting. Aidan stared at him, and turned around.

"So we're  _not_  getting the heck out of dodge?" he asked, a little woefully, and everyone else shook their heads. "Alright, alright."

* * *

"I'm going after him," Soldier announced to the group.

"He's been gone for… two minutes six seconds, Solly," Engineer said, checking his watch. "C'mon, boy, I-"

There was a bloodcurdling scream, and Soldier actually moved so fast his feet couldn't keep up and he tripped over, smacking his face on the floor. As the other two reached over to pull him up, he pushed them away, and was off and around the corner before anyone could even begin the thought process required to follow him.

"Solly!" Engineer shouted, and made to follow him. Luckily, Demoman got a hold of him in time, and this left the two of them stood alone in the dark corridor.

"We haf'tae go," Demoman whispered. "Look. The lassie's rooms there."

"How d'ya know?" Engineer asked, voice hushed. But there was no mistaking it. The windows of the room was somehow  _lighter_ , as if lit from the inside, and the door was open, ever so slightly. They began to walk towards it, and hoped against hope that Spy and Soldier would catch up to them.

* * *

"Damn it!" Sniper swore, punching the elevator button. "Why don't'cha fuckin'  _work_  for once!" He winced, and rubbed his fist. "Ow."

"We have to get down there," Aidan said quietly, and Sniper turned to him with the most credulous facial expression of all time.

" _ **Ya don' say**_?" he said, voice nearly hitting a pitch unmeant for those with testicles to hit. "Wanna state any more of the obvious? Wanna tell me how the lift ain't workin', mate?"

"I…" Aidan began, voice sharp, and the elevator whirred into life. "Whoa."

"Let's go," Sniper said, and hit the button. The door opened, and there, on the floor of the elevator, was Soldier, holding a bloodied body.

"Medic?" the American asked miserably, and the doctor dropped to his knees, staring at the carnage.

"He is alive. Barely," he said, and scooped up the Spy. "Come viz me. I have to find sutures. A needle. Some painkillers…" Soldier followed him, as did Heavy, and Sniper stared at Pyro, Aidan and Scout.

"What the fuck is down there?"

* * *

"But what if-"

Engineer was interrupted by Scout careening around the corner, followed closely by Aidan and Pyro, with Sniper bringing up the rear, gasping for breath. There was an unearthly screech.

"Ye brought'em back?" Demoman shouted at them, and Scout nodded, too terrified to even speak. He seized the Scot's arm and began to drag him into the hospital ward, whilst Aidan grasped Demoman. This left Pyro desperately trying to encourage Sniper to breathe.

" _I know all about not getting enough oxygen_ ," he babbled, trying to distract the Aussie. " _Just breathe in and out, Snipes. You're going to be fine_."

"C-c-c-" Sniper croaked, and his legs buckled.

" _Oh, balls to this,_ " Pyro growled. " _Aidan, get him inside_!"

"What-?" Aidan began, and Pyro's body began to glow, brighter and brighter at first.

" _Get. Inside._ "

Aidan obeyed.


	17. Chapter 17

The room was warm, and smelled of antiseptic and blood and sewage and horrible things. Sniper, Scout, Aidan, Demoman and Engineer stopped, the door slamming shut behind them, and then jumped together as the  _whoomph_  of a fireball resonated behind them.

"So we're trapped?" Demoman asked, and sat down on the hospital bed miserably, shortly joined by Aidan and Scout. Sniper began to pace before them, lips furiously working as he muttered to himself.

"Is there anythin' in here that'd help?" Engineer suggested, and Pyro stuck his hands in his pockets, sighing. Then he pulled out the two pieces of paper.

"What are those?" Sniper asked, and took one off of him. "Alessa Gillespie." He turned the paper around, and there was a picture. More specifically, a picture of the young girl whose medical records it was. It was, to nobody's particular surprise anymore, the little girl.

"So she's at the centre of it all," Scout said, taking the piece of paper. "5th degree burns? Doesn't sound that bad. Coulda been first degree."

"Scout, it goes the other way for burns," Pyro informed him, and Scout winced.

"Over 90 percent of her body? Damn."

"But she didn't die," Sniper said, taking the paper back. "She was still alive up 'til 1922, when- whatever happened, happened." He turned it over. "Nope. No evidence'a death. Nothin'."

"Aidan, can I ask why Pyro couldn't save us before but can now?" Engineer asked, and Pyro shrugged. "I mean… he said he 'wasn' strong enough' or somethin'."

"Ask him when we get out," Pyro said, head in his hands gloomily. "I have no idea."

"This was the little girl's hospital room. Everyone, fan out and find somethin' helpful," Sniper interrupted, waving the paper. "Looks like she might've left us another clue."

A summary search of the room didn't provide much except for a few personal effects; a copy of  _The Lost World_  almost charred beyond recognition, dead flowers, a red cardigan. They had almost given up when Scout gasped, waving a piece of paper. He appeared to be speechless.

"…" he gasped, mouth open, and waved the paper. Sniper plucked it from his fingers, and they stared at it in shock.

"No," Demoman murmured.

"Apparently," Pyro whispered.

"There's another one," Scout murmured, waving another piece. "But… but… check this one."

"Adoption papers," Engineer murmured, and he was the one who took this one, cradling it almost affectionately. "Well… who'da thunk it."

"But this hastae mean they're… related somehow," Demoman gasped, staring at the pictures. "Look. Alessa and her… they could be twins."

"Adopted," read Sniper, "1947, age 3 months. Susanne Pauling."

"But if  _she_ ," Scout said, motioning to the other piece of paper, "is related to Alessa, then… God, she's gotta be what, in her 80s?"

A picture of the Administrator, at about twenty years old – less anger lines, no grey in the hair, eyes still sparkling with a little cruel laughter – stared up at them from the clipping.

"Oh my god."


	18. Chapter 18

Spy was still unconscious, and Medic was becoming increasingly worried. Nothing in the hospital was usable in the slightest, and although the bleeding had stopped – every wound seemed to be thinner than the sharpest razors edge – Spy was definitely not okay.

So when he heard the elevator coming back upstairs, he felt almost sick at having to explain why he could not do his own job. The looks on their six faces when they arrived didn't make it better.

"Susanne Pauling…" he read, as Scout wordlessly handed him the paper. "But… zat's ze Administrator's assistant." Then his eyes clapped on the picture, and he gasped.

"Yup, he saw her too," Scout said quietly. "So, there's a little girl runnin' around who's a clone of Miss Paulin'?"

"This one is a whole lot weirder," Aidan added, handing over the piece of paper with the administrator's picture on. "Look. Helen Gillespie. So she's either related to Pauling, the little girl, or both."

"Alessa," Scout said, and everyone looked at him. "Her name's Alessa, remember?" He looked sickened. "Poor kid."

"Fifz degree burns?" Medic snorted, and now the stares were on him. "You do not survive fifz degree burns.  _Und_  if you did, somehow, ze limbs vould be amputated." The stares remained upon him. "You know, I don't just vear a lab outfit and call myself Medic for a joke,  _ja_." Pyro, floating behind his head, nodded sagely. "See? Ze ma- um… ghost zing can confirm zis."

" _Spirit_."

"So she's a ghost?" Sniper suggested, and Scout snorted. "Yeah, 'cause  _that'd_  be the weirdest thing that happened today." Scout nodded, serious once more.

"Ve cannot move Spy, so I don't know vat ve are supposed to do next," Medic said, mind returning back to the topic he had intended to broach. At that moment, there was a shout from the room behind him. "Oh,  _vat_   _now…_?"

Heavy and Soldier were backed up against the wall, watching in horror and awe as the little girl stroked Spy's head. She glanced up at the others, and smiled.

"I owe you one," she whispered, and as she vanished, leaving soot marks on the floor once more, Spy groaned and sat up.

"Remind me, never again will I sacrifice myself for others," he whispered, and Medic stared at him. "What?" Then he ran a finger over his face. "Where is my balaclava! And my coat, and why is my shirt open?"

"It's… very difficult to treat multiple lacerations vizout removing clothes first," Medic murmured, and Spy stared around. Then he took a mocking bow when he noticed the stares still.

"What?"

It was a combination of seeing his real face and what had happened to the scars. His face was aquiline, with high cheekbones and a real roman nose, topped by a shock of black hair; but it was his scars that were amazing. Each one had closed up, and yet still shone, threads of opalescent light weaving and criss-crossing over his face. They would have been almost beautiful to look at, if they had not been so unnatural.

Heavy passed over a mirror mutely, and Spy regarded himself momentarily. Then he sighed, and put it down.

"Well, can I have the balaclava back?" he asked, and Aidan shook his head.

"I think it is best if we all go unmasked," he said, and glanced around. "Well… where now?"

* * *

Five minutes later, and nobody had a plan. Medic was examining Spy's glittering wounds, and Soldier was assuring him that nobody cared about them. The rest were looking over either the adoption papers for Cheryl – who had turned out to be another Alessa clone – or Miss Pauling; or the newspaper clipping of the Administrator; or the hospital records of Alessa.

" _Aidy?_ " Pyro called idly, as he drifted around where the little girl had vanished. " _I've had an idea_."

As Aidan got up to examine the spot, Scout was reading the newspaper article alive.

"Niece, nineteen, of cult leader to leave Silent Hill," he read aloud. "This was printed in 1923… so, she's gotta been, what, fifty now?"

"Sixty-four," Engineer said without even blinking.

"'Helen Gillespie, niece of The Order' – whatever in the hell that is – 'cult leader Dahlia Gillespie, who disappeared in last year's fire, has left the town after new evidence came to light that…'" Scout stopped reading, and Sniper had to nudge him. "Guys."

"What?"

"Alessa was burnt alive. Part of some weird cult ritual." Scout looked sickened. "Her mother, her own damn mother, suspected she was a witch and  _burnt her_. They found diaries, letters…" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Sniper took a step back in case he was sick again. "And I guess the Admin is her cousin."

"So she's bloody stuck us here tae get rid o' the evidence?" Demoman snarled, snatching the paper from the boy. "I'll kill her."

"You and me both," Scout said dully, and looked at the picture of Alessa that had been used in the magazine. She was a hollow-eyed little thing, with a fragile smile, here and gone like a butterfly in smoke.

" _Guys_."

Everyone turned to Aidan and Pyro. Aidan was hopping from foot to foot in glee, eyes lit up like a firework, and Pyro seemed much the same.

"We've figured out where to go next," Aidan squeaked, and Pyro nodded, beaming. "Back to the place this all began, we think."

" _We know fire, okay? If there's one thing we know, it is fire_ ," Pyro giggled. " _How to cause it, how to prevent it, and how to find where it started_."

"How to find…?" Sniper said dopily, but Demoman was on his feet, grinning.

"So ye can find where the fire tha' destroyed the town started?" he asked, and Pyro and Aidan both nodded. "Excellent."


	19. Chapter 19

" _Watch your step_."

Pyro hovered over the others, anxiously flitting about to ensure that nobody fell as they traversed the old hotel. The place was burnt and half-collapsed, and as they came across large gaps in the architecture it sometimes became necessary for Heavy to lift the others over, or for Scout to double-jump across to make sure an area was safe before the others attempted the same. It was eerily quiet, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of ash across the floor.

"What're we looking for?" Demoman asked, disturbing the heavy silence. The sense of  _something_ , something nearby, a discovery to be made, was almost tangible, and Demoman was merely voicing the group's thoughts.

"Somethin'. The girl," Scout suggested, and there was a shout.

" _Men_!"

Soldier was fumbling to get something out of a keyhole as they approached. It was a ring of keys, shining and  _extremely_  easy to notice in the dim light of Spy's scars and Pyro's flames.

"Room 101," he said quietly. "Move out."

Room 101 was hidden behind a painting that had been slashed in half, and was unremarkable in itself – except for the enormous hole in the wall that led into the next building. They made the leap one at a time, Scout first, Engineer last.

"Engy, I've been meanin' to ask-" Sniper asked in a low voice as they fell slightly behind the group. "You know Miss Paulin'…"

"What about her, Snipes?" Engineer asked evenly. His crush was no secret amongst the group, as was the fact it was mutual – the only people who didn't seem to know that last fact was Engy and Miss Pauling themselves.

"…" Sniper said, unable to find the words he meant to say, and Engineer shrugged.

"I don't think this is anythin' to do with her," he said, just as evenly. "S'just a coincidence is all. We'll get there, find that girl…"

"Engy, that 'girl' is thirty damn years old," Sniper said forcefully. "She's a ghost or a… a figment or whatever." Engineer shook his head. "Are you  _still_  in denial?"

"Guys!"

They rounded the corner, and found it. What they were searching for. They did not know that, of course. But Scout was about to find out.

It was a large, amphitheatre-esque room, filled with seats that surrounded a central stage where lay, askew, an enormous metal disk. This clearly was where the fire had started – everything was scorched jet-black, and as the group trod carefully the ground creaked beneath them.

" _It's too damaged for all of you. Go one at a time,_ " Pyro advised.

"I'll go," Scout suggested, and the others nodded. He was the lightest, and as he hopped over, using fallen beams as support, the others watched in tense anticipation.

The disk was carved into an intricate pattern, and as Scout stared at it he realised he had seen it here and there in the town – carved on the desks at the school, on the walls, in pictures. He traced it with his fingers and his hands lighted on the shackles.

"Whoa," he said uneasily, the news story returning to his head. Was this where the little girl had been burned as a witch?

That was when the shackle snapped shut on his arm.

" _Ah_!" he shrieked, and Sniper barely even needed a cue to react. He began to hop over the beams, sure-footed as a mountain goat, or maybe a man who has spent every day his whole life climbing to survive, and just as he got to Scout the-

* * *

_Scout stared in horror as the crowd stared back, dull, furious hatred and insanity in their eyes. It was worse than out-and-out madness; at least that was honest. This was deceptive, hiding itself as religious fervour._

_"We are here to birth a God," a woman proclaimed, and he twisted his head to see who she was. All he could see from where he was tied to the disk was a cloud of red hair, and a twisted posture that reminded him of some kind of human raptor, all stalking gait and clawlike hands._

_"Praise be," a rumble echoed through the room._

_"This girl, my daughter," the woman said, motioning to Scout, who glanced down at himself in confusion, "will be the Host. A vessel," she almost sang, "to birth They who will pave the way to Paradise."_

_Scout finally managed to turn his face enough to see what was beneath him, and he began to scream and scream and scream._

_There was a large bronze cauldron, filled to the brim with coal, wood and an oily liquid that shone dully in the light from the lamps. As a man approached, bearing a torch, Scout twisted frantically, trying to get out. Any moment now, he told himself, he would wake up._

_The man threw the torch into the fuel._

_There was a dull roar._

_There was no pain, at first, merely a feeling of extreme heat, as if he had slid into a bath. Then the burning began, all over his back and head and legs and arms at once, as if an army of ants had crawled into his clothes and were systematically ripping him apart. He began to scream again, each one more hoarse and frantic, and as he stared at the crowd, frantically pleading with them to let him go, he saw her._

_The Administrator._

_She was staring at him, really at_ him _, and he knew she knew, somehow, he was there. It wasn't the girl she saw, oh no. And then she smiled cruelly, and-_

* * *

" _Scout_!"

Scout opened his eyes, and found himself staring into the eyes of Sniper, who had both hands on his shoulders. He patted himself up and down with both – mercifully free – hands, and then stood up from where he had fallen on the floor, shaking.

"Scout, what happened?" Sniper asked slowly, and Scout turned to look at him. There was a look in his eyes now, a sort of fierce determination and a little bit of soullessness that scared Sniper enough to make him back away.


	20. Chapter 20

The church's dank air stung Miss Pauling's nose as she struggled against her bonds. She had never been truly scared before, but there was a first time for everything; and, as her boss stared at her, dark violet eyes vicious, this was definitely a good time to begin.

She did not remember how she had gotten there; her last memory was settling down for the night in her flat in Reno. There had been a dream – there usually was; one did not witness bloodshed and carnage on a regular basis without the odd bad night – but this one had been worse. Monsters had been lurching out of dark fog to lie, prostrate, at her feet and mumble desperate pleas to her in the voices of the nine mercenaries she had helped hire.

She had opened her eyes, fingers reaching for the small picture she kept under her bed of Dell Conagher for comfort, and had made the first of several extremely nasty surprises.

One… there was no pillow.

Two… she couldn't move her hands as they had been bound behind her back.

Three… the fog was  _real_.

She had been lying on a wooden floor that was dark with spilled fluids, and there had been monsters all around her, creeping, crawling, but ignoring her. Until she had touched one, timidly, and they had all turned on her, screaming and roaring, a heap of fur, fangs and bloodied skin that had surrounded her. And yet still they did not attack, merely crowding her until she had been dragged out by the Administrator and smothered with a cloth that smelt of bleach until she had passed out.

And now she was here, bound to a wooden stake like a witch from the medieval ages as her boss, a woman who, if she had not been  _friends_  with her, she had at least trusted to kill her in a less horrific way than this.

There were no words exchanged as the Administrator tightened the young woman's bonds, and as she stormed out, somebody appeared next to her.

" _Don't scream_."

Susanne stared at the fiery apparition with enormous eyes, full of confusion and terror, and nodded slowly.

" _Now, we are on our way. I'm… Pyro, by the way. I'd shake hands, but… er…_ "

"Mmmph," Susanne said through her gag, slightly hysterical, and Pyro shushed her gently.

" _I can't let you go. Not in here. But they're all going to be here soon_ ," he assured her, and she shook her head and began to pull against the ties. " _Shh! Don't struggle_."

"Frrgh!" Miss Pauling wept, and as the Administrator swept back into the room Pyro vanished.

"What are you talking about?" the Administrator snarled, and Pauling began to struggle as she saw the look in her eyes. There was something new, something that she had never seen before – at least not in her employer's eyes. Fear.


	21. Chapter 21

Scout's eyes were empty as he paced the floor of the sacrificial chamber, baseball bat tapping against his leg as he went. Engineer's were much the same as Pyro related the tale of Miss Pauling to him.

"So we go in, we save her, we leave, y'all?" the Texan asked slowly, and everyone nodded.

"How could'ya burn a child?" Scout asked quietly. His bat had picked up tempo. "How could any mom not love her kid?"

"I don't get how Miss Pauling is tied into all this," Aidan said, brow furrowed. "I know she's convenient for the Admin to sacrifice or kill or whatever, but I don't quite get why she's here."

"She's the girl," Scout said, not looking at him. "When the girl… I'unno … made  _this_ , she split into the girl we've seen, and Paulin'."

"Ya think?" Sniper asked, and Scout looked up at him. He nodded, and stepped back a little under the force of the blue glare. "Yup, I see ya do."

"I  _know_ ," Scout said, and went back to pacing.

"So, you say it's full of monsters?" Aidan asked Pyro, and Pyro nodded.

" _Whole church is packed. It's like a congregation. A really, really scary parody of a congregation_ ," he said, and folded his flaming arms. " _Too strong for any of us to get in, take her, and get out_."

"But zat's our  _job_ ," Medic argued, and everyone looked at him. "Every day, ve team up, go into a building full of zing's zat are trying to kill us, kill everyvone ve find, take somezing zat zey consider important,  _und_  zen get back out."

There was a dawning of comprehension as each team members realised their part to play in this. For hadn't they been forced to band together, more than ever before? Hadn't they been forced to face their fears? Hadn't they been split up and brought back together, each time overcoming worse and worse odds?

"But…" Sniper said weakly, having one last attempt at an argument. "We've got hardly any weapons between us! No respawn, no supply closets…"

"I get the feeling we will be led there," Spy murmured from his corner.

And they were.

* * *

Pyro was first to spot the girl as they strode down the street towards the church, and this time she didn't run. She walked ahead of them like a lucky mascot, leading them into a small building. The sign above the door just about read 'Cut-Rite Chainsaws', and she pushed the door open, and then she ran into the darkness before the others had even gotten through the doorway.

Inside, on the counter, a table, an old munitions storage box, lay their weapons; but instead of the normal red colouration that marked them as theirs, they were bright white, scrubbed clean and standing out like beacons against the dingy gloom. The men tooled up, barely giving each other a glance, and when they were done, they gathered in a group in the centre of the room.

"Here's to… not being alone," Sniper said, breaking the uneasy silence. He placed his hand out in the centre of the group.

"Here's t'listenin' to my teammates," Scout added, eyes still as dead as a sharks. His small hand rested atop Sniper's lightly.

"Here is to learning when to lead and when to be led, men," Soldier said solemnly, putting his hand down with a heavy, dull clap.

"Here's t'stayin' sober," Demo added, placing his hand lightly on the pile.

"Here's to having my own identity," Aidan added, his hand curling over the pile a little protectively.

"Here is to being visible in both person and motives," Spy murmured, his hand casting an ethereal glow on the others'.

"Here is to seeing people as more zan meat," Medic said, hand trembling.

"Here is to relying on others as vell as your own brute strength," Heavy rumbled, delicately placing his huge hand atop the others'.

"An' here's to seeing the value in humanity an' people, an' not just the machine," Engineer said flatly, after a short pause.

" _Here is to finally getting to meet all of you_ ," Pyro added, and placed his hand  _through_  the pile. The fire was warm and gentle.

They did not throw their hands up in the air and shout 'whoo!' or anything so clichéd. Instead, they hung on, nobody wanting to break the balance, all a little scared of what breaking up the team would mean.

"When d'we know when ta go?" Sniper whispered, and Scout shrugged.

"I figured we'd just, ya know, kinda know," he replied quietly, and the siren blared suddenly. "Yup, there we go…"

The room darkened, and everything began to peel away, including the front wall, revealing Balkan Church in all its twisted, vicious glory before them.

"Match begins in ten seconds," Scout whispered.


	22. Chapter 22

"Go!"

Engineer was first out, toolbox in hand, and had hit the stairs and then the doorway to the church before the last echoes of the siren had even died away. A sentry was already taking shape at the top of the steps, and one-handed though he was, he was still making quite a job of it, even as a monster loomed above him from the gloomy entrance.

Scout was next, hot on the Engineer's heels, the grin of a hyena on his face. As the first of the monsters showed up, he smashed them as hard as he could with his bat, and leapt over the collapsing body, charging towards Engy with fierce vigour.

"I'm going up," Sniper said, watching this, and turned, beginning to scale the ruins of the chainsaw outlet. Demoman gave him a leg up, turned, cocked his grenade launcher, and winced as the shriek of a Green Fairy echoed throughout the street.

Medic and Heavy charged past, hot on the trail of a Two-Back from the prison, now visible, stumbling after Spy, who was running away from it as fast as his Cubans would carry him. Soldier launched a rocket at the monster, and shouted an apology as it roared in pain before finishing it off with a well-placed shovel to the head.

The Green Fairy landed in front of Demoman, and gave a vicious, needling purr of a scream. He looked back at it, and gave an answering roar of defiance before catching it right in the stomach with a grenade.

"Never liked absinthe an'way," he muttered, and turned to spray sticky bombs all over the street as a wave of insects approached, muttering to himself about stupid insects and bugs and fairies.

Pyro rushed to Aidan, and the young man lit up as the two fused back into one being, Aidan pulling his gas mask back over his face.

"Mmmpghh!" he shouted, and turned to face the wave of encroaching insects. " _Frrrgh hhhhh!_ " A burst of flame shot forth from his flamethrower, bright-white with blue tongues and almost blinding, and the screams of dying hellbugs tore through the air.

"Good man!" Sniper shouted from the rooftop, and Aidan waved as Pyro separated from him again.

" _We make a great team_!" he cheered, and hi-fived Aidan, before swooping down towards Scout who was being seized by a monster with altogether too many arms. As he got there, hands raised, a razor-knife flashed out and Spy reappeared, slicing open the monster's back. Pyro caught Scout as he fell, and set the boy gently on the ground.

Monsters were pouring out of the church, as many as could get past Engineer's sentry, and yet the trickle seemed to be slowing as the men killed the monsters, until finally there was nothing at all, merely blood and body parts. The men did not stop however, but ran into the church, weapons still held high.

The tableau before them was like one from a historical document on the Salem Witch Trials. There Miss Pauling was tied to a stake, her mouth bound and gagged, and next to her stood the Administrator, clad in a dark purple robe, clutching a flaming torch and looking just about sick to her stomach.

" _Mmmmmph!_ " Miss Pauling cried, and the Administrator put her hands up.

"Please don't kill me," she murmured, almost inaudibly. "You really have nothing to gain from it."

"Get away from Miss Paulin', and put down the torch  _now_ ," Sniper growled, having apparently materialised behind Engineer's head. Engineer found that words were quite impossible as he stared at the two women. The Administrator shook her head, and motioned to the woman tied to the stake.

"So, are you to be responsible for letting unbridled evil overtake the rest of the world?" she snapped. "God, you  _are_  all far more stupid that I gave you credit for."

"Unbridled evil?" Engineer snarled, pushing his goggles up roughly. "Lady, you step away from Miss Paulin'  _right now_ -"

"Mr Conagher, if you genuinely believe that she is innocent, you are a fool," the Administrator growled. "I brought you in here over the BLUs because I thought my training had had more effect. I can see I was wrong."

"You brought us here?" Scout snapped, elbowing his way to the front of the group. "Your family burned a little girl ta death, an' you brought us here 'cause you thought we'd help? No fuckin' way." Sniper grasped his arm, and as he turned around to shout at the Australian the noise died in his throat.

"We can't let her get away," he croaked, eyes filling with tears, and Sniper nodded.

"Enough," the Administrator growled.

And then the screeching of metal on stone came.


	23. Good Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silent Hill has a tradition of multiple endings, so I believed I would uphold that. Here, for you, is the Good Ending.

As everybody turned to face the enormous creature standing in the doorway, Engineer took his chance, ran forward, violently shoved his shoulder into the Administrator's chest, throwing her aside, and dived for Miss Pauling, pulling the ropes that bound her to the stake.

"Mate!" Sniper shouted, threw him his kukri, and all Hell broke loose.

Pyramid Head raised the Great Knife in the air, several members of the team began attacking, one began screaming, and the Administrator threw the torch onto the fuel-soaked logs at the foot of the stake.

"Nope, not gonna happen today," Engineer muttered, and sawed the ropes, grabbing the girl and tumbling off the pile with her. He landed, still clutching her in his arms, and she smiled at him gently.

" _Engy_!"

Engineer looked up, and saw purple shoes racing their way. He pushed Miss Pauling aside and swung the kukri up awkwardly.

" _Use the sharp edge_!" he heard Sniper yell, and flipped the weapon as the Administrator gave a desperate howl and clutched his throat.

"You idiot!" she screamed, and threw him to the floor, strength almost superhuman. "Don't you understand?"

"Nope, an' I ain't givin' you time to 'splain it," Engineer said indifferently, and thrust the kukri up. She dodged it, and then gasped, choked, as Pyramid Head's hand closed around her throat and pinned her to the wall.

"She will end the world, you idiots," she croaked, and there was a gasp from behind them.

Scout had doubled over again, and was vomiting – copious amounts of blood. Black beads hung from his lips as he retched, clawing helplessly at his own throat.

"Oh, I can't be doing with this shit," Aidan murmured, and swung his flamethrower round to Pyramid Head. "Make a move, big guy, and you're toast."

" _Not that you're any different_ ," Pyro said to the Administrator.

"Put her down," Aidan said, and she was set down. Now the room consisted of Engineer holding onto Miss Pauling, whose shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, the other eight men and Pyro still battle-ready, and Pyramid Head looming menacingly over the Administrator. "Now, start talking, lady."

"We have no  _time_ ," the Administrator croaked, clearly distraught over something. "We have to kill her, she is the key…"

"I never did anything," Miss Pauling sobbed, her head resting in the crook of Engineer's shoulder. "I was a good assistant, I never-"

"He's okay, if anyvun vas vondering," Medic said sharply as he lifted Scout up, who was shaking violently. There was a rumble, and everybody looked down at the floor.

Where the liquid Scout had been vomiting had fallen, the floor was falling, being eaten away by the liquid that was spreading to fill the dais where the pulpit sat. Pyramid Head gave a roar of – shock? Anger? Confusion? – and turned to grasp Miss Pauling.

Who was on her knees, coughing up copious amounts of blood herself.

Engineer had been thrown backwards, and was groaning against the far wall, and Pyramid Head guarded Miss Pauling fiercely.

"No!" the Administrator sobbed. "She cannot be allowed to bring the God into the world. You! Shoot her!" She waved at Aidan wildly.

"I'll hit Dell from here!" Aidan moaned, watching in shock as Miss Pauling's frail outline began to  _distort_  horrifically.

Scout gave one last retch, and brought up a small vial of red liquid, which sat in his hands as he shuddered.

"Give her that! Give  _me_  that!" the Administrator barked, and threw herself at Pyramid Head, who made to bat her out of the way. Sniper made a decision, and luckily, it was the right one, and leapt at the giant monster, slicing at him with the kukri.

This was accompanied by one giant team pile-on, barring Engy and Scout, and as Pyramid Head flailed wildly, there was a creaking from the pit as of a thousand chain-wire fences deciding to have a little walk. The noise didn't reach anyone's ears but Scout's, and as he shivered, eyes full again now that they weren't full of the Darkness, he felt something rest lightly on his shoulder.

He turned, and his ear was cut ever so slightly by the barbed wire tentacle that had landed on his shoulder.

" _Guys_!"

As the Administrator got to Pauling, tipped her head back, poured the liquid into her mouth; as Medic, Heavy, Demoman, Aidan, Pyro, Sniper, Soldier and Spy wrestled with Pyramid Head, who was roaring like a bull; as the hospital bed bearing the mummified girl lumbered into place atop thorned legs above a terrified Scout and a still-dazed Engineer –

There was a sudden hush.

Time seemed to spread aside, and Scout remembered, for years afterwards, often in the dead of night, that this moment of time was like being in between the Titanic and the iceberg.

And then Miss Pauling vomited a messy, bloody lump into her hands.

At the same time, the barbed wire tentacles seized upon Pyramid Head, barely avoiding the others, and tore him to tiny shreds.

Spy fainted.

Barbed wire shot out to the lump, obliterating it in seconds, and as Miss Pauling shuddered, staring at the bloody mess, the Administrator reached out and put her hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

She was facing Pauling as she said it, but she was looking at the girl in the hospital bed, who gave her a crooked smile through the scar tissue that marred her face.

"I'm so sorry, Alessa."

* * *

"…that would have become a god, of sorts," the Administrator explained, as they strolled along the main road. Everything felt quiet – not peaceful, there would never be peace in the tortured pocket dimension of Silent Hill – and the fog stretched on, endless. "If it had been birthed, the world would have ended. And there's far too much money that isn't mine for the world to end just yet," she added primly, skirting a crashed car.

"So you couldn't explain to us?" Aidan asked incredulously, and she shook her head.

"You people barely understand the phrase 'capture the flag'," she snorted. "If I had told you that Pauling had been called to Silent Hill to give birth to a deity, you'd have actually thought I'd lost my marbles."

"So how do we get back?" Miss Pauling asked timidly from the shelter of Engineer's arms as they passed the school gates.

"You are the physical form of Alessa Gillespie," the Administrator said, her voice cracking as she did so. She recovered quickly, however, and her voice was level as she continued, "If anybody can get us out, you can."

"There," Scout said, and pointed at the bus that lay half in the front yard of the school. "That's how."

"How do you know?" the Administrator asked, and then was hushed into silence by the handprints on the front, deep in the dust. And that was when everybody realised that the fog had lightened a little. Ash no longer fell from the sky.

Another tear ran down the Administrator's face, and they climbed aboard the bus, taking a seat each, Engineer at the helm. It started on the first turn of the rusting key in the ignition.

Engineer smiled and pulled out of the yard, driving along the street, the engine humming gently below him. He worried, briefly, about changing gears, but realised that, if Silent Hill was letting them leave, that wouldn't stop them.

He turned his head around, and saw the entire bus was asleep. Scout was tucked up on the back row against Sniper, whose head was lolled against Medic, who lay under one of Heavy's protective arms. Demoman and Aidan were slumped against each other in one of the rows, and Soldier was slumped forward, head on his arms, next to a Spy curled up in the foetal position. And in the front row, the Administrator was fast asleep next to Miss Pauling. Susanne opened an eye and smiled at him tiredly as they trundled down the road, and he smiled back as she fell into sleep.

The bus pulled up at the edge of the ravine that separated Silent Hill from reality, and Pyro appeared at Engy's shoulder.

" _I'm staying here_ ," he murmured, and Engineer nodded, yawning as sleep embraced him as well. " _I think it's best for Aidy, really._ " He looked back at the sleeping man, and a tear as black as oil slid down his face. " _I'm… going to miss you all. Thank you._ "

"Don't mention it," Engineer murmured drowsily, and as sleep finally overtook his tired body, he felt the bus roll forward, the fog sliding aside to reveal more road, the mountain road that led out of Silent Hill.

Out of Silent Hill, down the road to Brahams, into the real world.


	24. Bad Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silent Hill has a tradition of multiple endings, so I believed I would uphold that. Here, for you, is the Bad Ending.

As everybody turned to face the enormous creature standing in the doorway, Engineer took his chance, ran forward, and violently dived for the Administrator, dragging her off to the side.

"Mate!" Sniper shouted, threw him his kukri, and all Hell broke loose.

Pyramid Head raised the Great Knife in the air, several members of the team began attacking, one began screaming, and the Administrator shrieked as Miss Pauling began to cough, blood drooling down her chin.

"What did you do t'her?" Engineer screamed at the woman, who shook her head, babbling incoherently about the end of the world. This was stopped as Pyramid Head seized her by the neck and squeezed. The crack of her neck bones snapping echoed around the church, and as she wheezed her final breath, Scout dropped to the floor, blood spilling out of his own mouth.

It began to form itself into a human shape, the little girl, and as Scout choked, shoulders hunched in pain, she looked up at Miss Pauling.

"Why?" she whispered, and then Miss Pauling's outline began to  _distort_  horribly, wavering as if she were a transmission and clouds had obscured the signal. She screamed, a horrible burst of static in the church's thick air, and then the siren rang out, one last time.

When it had stopped, what was half-tied to the stake wasn't human. It wasn't Miss Pauling, for sure. It had the base appearance of a human – a head, two legs, two arms, a body. It even appeared vaguely feminine, with all the curves in the right place. The fact it was about ten foot tall didn't help, though, and its curved claws of scythes. Its face was blank, but as it 'stared' about the room, it gave out a sound that could have been a muffled scream.

Alessa stared up at what she had become, and as the scythe-talons reached out for her, she could do nothing but close her eyes and whisper, "Why."

It wasn't a question.


	25. UFO Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silent Hill has a tradition of multiple endings, so I believed I would uphold that. Here, for you, is the UFO Ending, or as I like to call it... the Saxton Hale Ending.

As everybody turned to face the enormous creature standing in the doorway, Engineer took his chance, ran forward, violently shoved his shoulder into the Administrator's chest, throwing her aside, and dived for Miss Pauling, pulling the ropes that bound her to the stake.

_**Hello.** _

It was a voice that transcended all boundaries, and as the Mann walked into the room, trailing the mangled pyramid helmet alongside Him, Sniper gasped in awe.

"Don'tcha know who that is?" he whispered. "That's…"

 _ **Saxton Hale,**_  the figure said, and held up the helmet.  _ **I've gotta say, I liked that Pyramid fella's French mustard.**_

"Get on your knees," Sniper hissed, sounding scandalised by the lack of respect the others were showing. They all did so, and Saxton Hale stretched, His muscles gleaming in the light that seemed to be emanating from His chest hair.

 _ **So, she's about t'give birth to a new God,**_  He said bluntly, and picked up Pauling in one hand. The Administrator smirked, lip curling.

"I should have known you wouldn't let that happen, Saxton," she purred, and Saxton Hale smiled back, teeth glittering.

_**Helen. Should've known you'd be mixed up in this.** _

There was a puff of Australian-ness, and Saxton Hale set Miss Pauling down, who now looked nothing short of very confused.

 _ **Sorry, Sheila, but I couldn't have anyone trying to muscle in on my gig,**_  He said, doffing His excellent Hat.  _ **Helen?**_

As the Administrator took Saxton Hale's arm, and walked off into the street, Scout turned to the others with a raised eyebrow.

"What the hell just happened?"


End file.
